Lost Island Beach Club
by Noritsu
Summary: Charlie's bored. Sawyer makes a suggestion. A sprinkling of plot & random nonsense ensue. Charlie centric. Other characters also present. Rated for mild cursing. Story is finished.
1. This Does Not Bode Well

**LOST **

**Lost Island Beach Club **

Authoress: Noritsu

Disclaimer 

I **do not** own the LOST characters, or the LOST universe.

They are copyrighted and belong to Damon Lindelof, Carlton Cuse, Bad Robot, and ABC.

The storyline, however, is mine. So, no pilfering, please. Thanks.

**TUN** Publishing Company

June, 2007

**T**he**U**sual**N**onsense

**8/25/07:** Deleted the title page and placed it at the beginning of Chapter One. This way, the chapters of the fic match up with the numbered chapter slots of the site.

I know that in the episode 'Enter 77' they didn't actually show an outbuilding of any kind that we could see (at least, I don't recall seeing one). But, for the purposes of this story, I invented one. Also, I always like to post general comments at the end of chapters, not at the beginnings.

**This Does Not Bode Well**

Charlie sat on a piece of driftwood, strumming his guitar, and glancing up every now and then to watch the sun as it set on the distant horizon. He sighed, propped the guitar next to him, and regarded the rich orange color as it sparkled and played across the still evening water. He was monumentally bored, and he began wondering what Hurley was doing at the moment. If he was doing something at the moment, was it important? Even if it was important, would Hurley mind if he interrupted him? If Charlie decided to, in fact, go and interrupt Hurley in whatever it was he may, or may not be doing, he would need a good reason for doing so. Or maybe not. Maybe Hurley was just as monumentally bored as he was. Maybe Hurley would be grateful if Charlie came along and disturbed him from his boredom.

He sighed and propped his cheek against his hand. It had been a very quiet day today, and he should be thankful for that. No polar bears, no smoke monster, no sneak attack attempts from The Others. Nothing at all had occurred today to mar the progression of hours as they flowed from sunrise to sunset.

Charlie groaned and buried his head in his hands. For a fleeting moment, he seriously considered whether or not he should strip to his skivvies, and jump on the makeshift work table they'd made. Everyone would come and gather around him and ask him what in the devil he was doing. He could tell them that he'd dance for them if they each paid him two seashells apiece.

He was seized with a sudden fit of laughing from the image his mind conjured up of himself to go along with the thought he was having. He curled his fingers into his hair and began shaking his head back and forth. _I can't believe I just thought that._

"Nice conversation you're havin' with yourself?"

Charlie jerked his head up at the intrusion into his musings. It was Sawyer. "What do _you_ want?"

Sawyer's face took on a look of having been offended. "Excuse _me_ for tryin' to make an attempt at bein' social."

"Since when do you want to be social with _me_?" Charlie asked.

Sawyer seemed to think about this. "You know, you're right. Screw you. I'm outta here."

Now it was Charlie's turn to be offended. "Well, thanks a lot! Screw you right back, _jerk_."

"_Loser_," Sawyer shot back.

"Well, isn't that the pot calling the kettle black."

"Hey, _you_ started the name callin'."

Charlie sighed. "I'm so freaking bored…"

Sawyer studied Charlie for a moment while he considered the other's comment over his current state of mind. "Well, maybe a giant sea monster'll rear up outta the ocean, and pluck you off this here beach and swallow you whole. Now, I ain't sayin' that that's a good thing for _you_, but it'll give the rest of us somethin' to do."

Charlie finally turned the whole way around so he could glare at Sawyer. "You're _not _helping. Go the hell away." He turned back around and crossed his arms over his chest. He was now not only bored, he was bored, _and_ pissed off.

Sawyer smirked and turned to leave. He made it a few steps before something made him turn around and go back. He sat down on the edge of the driftwood. "You wanna know somethin' interestin'?" he asked, in a conspiratorial sort of way.

Charlie gave him a questioning, cautious look. He wasn't sure if he wanted to take the bait Sawyer was dangling in front of him. On the other hand, if it _was_ something interesting, maybe he could pass the time thinking about it, and not be so bored anymore. He unfolded his arms and turned again to look at Sawyer. "Okay, I'm up for it. What's so interesting?"

Sawyer leaned over a bit. "Well, remember when Locke, Kate, and Sayid went lookin' for Jack so they could spring him? They came across that communications station up in the hills. Locke blew it up, you know. But, did you know that there was some kind of storage shed, or something, back a ways from it? They didn't go check it out on account o' they wanted to high tail it outta there in case anyone saw the explosion and came runnin'."

Charlie stared at Sawyer for a long enough period of time that Sawyer wondered if Charlie had zoned out on him or something. His eyes did look a little unfocused right now…..

Charlie shook his head, and finally spoke. "A storage shed. That's so interesting? I'm not so sure. The Others have probably gone and cleaned it out by now. I doubt there'd be anything left to go looking for."

Sawyer shrugged. "Suit yourself." He got up to leave, and as he did so, another thought suddenly struck Charlie.

"Say, you didn't tell me this just to see if you could pique my interest enough to get me to go and leave for a few hours on some wild shed hunting chase did you?"

The smirk came back, just a little bit, as Sawyer answered Charlie's question. "Sorry, Chucky, I don't think you're _that_ important in the scheme of things. See ya in the mornin'. " And with that, he walked off, leaving Charlie alone with his thoughts again.

The stars were beginning to twinkle in the night sky now, making a pretty light show. Charlie found himself, much to his chagrin, turning over what Sawyer had said to him about the shed. Could there possibly be anything of importance in it? Would Sayid have been game to go and check it out if Locke hadn't blown the station to smithereens? As much as he hated to admit it, Sawyer had, in fact, piqued his interest. Now that he was sitting here thinking about the possible ramifications if there was anything significant to be found inside, he began to wonder something else. If he went and talked to Sayid tomorrow, _would_ he be game to go back and check it out?

Charlie sat a while longer and continued to turn the question of the shed's contents over in his mind. He finally decided that, yes, he would go and talk to Sayid tomorrow and see if he wanted to go back. But first, he'd gather up Hurley and Desmond, and maybe Jin, and get them to agree to go along. That way, it would be harder for Sayid to say no, if he knew Charlie had already gotten a group together.

Charlie grabbed his guitar, and jumped up off the driftwood. His footsteps seemed light as they carried him back to his makeshift hut. A sense of excitement bubbled up inside him, but he beat it down by reminding himself that he needed to get a good night's sleep if he was going to be hiking up into the hills tomorrow.

One thing was for certain. He was definitely no longer bored.

* * *

So there you have it. The first chapter of I don't really know how many yet. Maybe four, or five.

I hope you think it's funny, because I found myself laughing at what I was writing as I typed it. So, if you don't think it's funny, then that means I have a really weird sense of humor that no one else shares…

Anyway, this isn't going to be a parody of 'Enter 77', or any other episode. It's just a parody of the whole show in general. So, if you wanna leave a review, push the button (but not 108 times) and let me know what you think.

TTFN, Nori  
_free the cuddlefish_


	2. It's Not A Hike, It's An Adventure

If you wish to view the disclaimer, please backtrack to Chapter One.

**It's Not A Hike, It's An Adventure**

Jack strolled along the beach, humming a little tune to himself. He was in a pretty good mood today, after having a nice day yesterday where absolutely nothing unfortunate had occurred to mess up his day. He didn't necessarily have anything important to do, he was just walking here and there, connecting with his fellow survivors, and having a nice chat with them to make sure that they were all still maintaining as good a mindset as they could about things considering their situation.

He happened to come across a part of the beach where he noticed Charlie and Hurley standing. Charlie was sporting a canary eating grin on his face, and bouncing up and down on the balls of his feet. Hurley was looking at him like he thought he was nuts. For some reason, this didn't set off any alarm bells in Jack's mind.

By the time he got over to the two of them, Charlie had started talking again. "Oh, come on," he was saying, giving Hurley a light slap on his shoulder, "it'll be fun."

"Hi, guys," Jack said. "What's going to be fun?"

"Oh," Charlie said casually, "I'm trying to talk Hurley here into going on a gathering expedition with me."

Jack looked a little dubious at that. "A gathering expedition?"

"Yes," Charlie said, "we're going to gather things. But we can't tell you about it. It's going to be a surprise."

"A surprise?" Jack asked.

"Yeah," Hurley said, "you're going to be _really _surprised."

Charlie grinnned. "But don't worry," he said to Jack. "We're going to take Desmond and Jin with us. So we'll be fine. And really, when we come back with all the good things we've gathered, and maybe a cow, you'll be really proud of us."

"Uh-huh. Well, I guess that's sounds okay – " He stopped talking. _A cow?_

Charlie hooked his thumb at Jack, "See?" he said to Hurley, "it sounds okay to him."

Jack shook his head. Obviously, he was hearing things. "Just make sure you don't wander too close to the security system that divides the island," he finished.

"Oh, we'll make sure we won't," Charlie replied. "If all goes well, then it'll be a fun, and exciting, and adventurous expedition." He made a little twisty dance move. "You know, cha, cha, cha, and all that?"

Jack's eyes widened slightly. _Cha, cha cha? _Suddenly, he felt like turning and fleeing.

"Yeah, well," he said, "Good luck with that. Um, I have to go find Kate now." Yeah, that sounded good. That was a plausible thing to say. "So, have fun on your hike…..thing….." Then he turned and walked off.

Hurley looked at Charlie. "And what are we gonna tell Jack if we get to the shed and there's nothing in it to bring back?"

"Well…" Charlie stopped and turned the question over in his mind. "Well, we'll think of that when we come to it. For now, let's have faith, old chap!"

Hurley started. _Old chap?_

Charlie pointed his finger down the beach. "And now, on to Desmond!"

Hurley walked after Charlie, wondering what in the devil he was getting himself into.

lostlostlostlost

Desmond grabbed the makeshift hook at the end of his makeshift fishing pole and squished the bug he'd caught onto the end of it, grimacing as he did so. This was the worst part of fishing – having to squish the bait on the hook. It wasn't even a very appetizing looking bug. It was sort of a poopy-brown color. Which just went to show you how stupid fish were. If a fish were smart, it would look at the bug and say, "Oh, that's a poopy-brown color. I'm _so_ not chomping on _that_." And it would swim away, looking for something that was much more nicely colored to eat.

But the fish here were quite stupid, he'd discovered – much dumber than the fish in the U.K. – and so, when he would get it into his head that he ought to spend some time fishing, he would go and look for these horrid poopy-brown colored bugs, in the place where he knew they were at, and he'd catch a few of them, and hook them, and throw them out into the water, and sure enough, after a bit, he'd catch a fish that had actually thought it would be a good idea to bite down onto it, thinking that it might taste good, for some unfathomable reason which he didn't want to know about.

He straightened up, and swung the hand holding the pole over to the side. He looked out over the water, and tried to decide where he should cast the line. As he was trying to decide this, he began thinking to himself that it would be nice if someone would come along and interrupt him from his ponderings so he would have some company.

Just then, Charlie and Hurley came along, and interrupted him from his ponderings.

"Hey, Desmond," Charlie began casually, "watcha doin'?"

"Oh, just trying to catch a fish or two so we'll have a little something to eat later. You know, nothing terribly important. Why?"

"Well," Charlie said, stepping up onto the rocks where Desmond stood, "Hurley and me are going on a little gathering expedition. Wanna come?"

Desmond looked at him quizzically. "A gathering expedition?"

"Yes," Charlie replied. He turned and motioned for Hurley to come up onto the rocks with them. "Did you hear about the communications station that Locke, Kate, and Sayid found?" he asked.

"Yeah, I believe that story did filter down my way."

"Well, Sawyer told me that there was also a storage shed that was there, too. It might not have gotten blown up with the station when Locke set it off. Now, I was thinkin'. Wouldn't it be nice to know what's in that shed?"

"Well, I don't know….." Desmond trailed off.

"Hey," Charlie said, "there could be any manner of extra communications type equipment stuff in there. I was thinkin' we might be able to make some use of it, if it would still be in pretty decent shape."

Desmond thought about this for a moment.

"And lawn equipment," Charlie said, rather abruptly, and quite unexpectedly.

"He's nuts," Hurley said, pointing at Charlie.

"Will you stop that?" Charlie exclaimed. "The other week you talked me into piling myself into an old VW with a dead battery and hurling myself down a hill! All we're doing is taking a little walk up north to a tool shed!"

"But that was different!" Hurley shouted. "We were taking our _own_ fate into our _own_ hands! What if The Others come along and see us? What if they capture us and put us in cages, too? What if – if – "

"They carve out our intestines?" Desmond offered politely.

Hurley looked at him, in a rather aghast sort of way, that he would actually think of such a thing, much less say it.

"Well," Charlie said cheerily, "that would rather put a damper on things then, wouldn't it?"

"You're _both_ nuts!" Hurley yelled.

Desmond smiled. "Well, personally, I think I'd rather go on a hike to a tool shed to gather equipment, than stay here and throw bugs in the water at some passing fish." He glanced over at his fishing pole. His poopy-brown bug was starting to look a little droopy.

"So, that's it then. We'll go scoop up Jin, and then we'll go see what Sayid thinks about all this." He pulled the bug from the hook and tossed it in the water. Then, he dropped the pole, and climbed off the rocks with Charlie in tow.

Hurley followed after them, shaking his head, and mumbling under his breath.

lostlostlostlost

Jin was flipping through the book of english words that Sun had made for him when he heard the soft sound of approaching footsteps. He looked up to see Charlie, Hurley, and Desmond walking toward him. Charlie was out in front, with the other two behind. This arrangement immediately told him that Charlie was the ringleader for whatever the subject was that they were approaching him about. For reasons he couldn't quite explain, he was already concerned.

The trio stopped a few feet in front of him, and Charlie walked forward a few more steps to stand directly before him. He smiled and nodded his head. "So, Jin, I see you're studying that book of words Sun made for you. Nice."

Jin was momentarily distracted into glancing behind Charlie to Hurley, who was making a circular motion with his forefinger against the side of his head. This was the universal symbol, of course, for 'so-and-so is crazy'. Jin swallowed nervously, and turned around to Sun. He got her attention and mouthed the Korean words for _'Help me'_ to her.

She gave him a quizzical look and came over to him. "Hi, Charlie," she said.

"Hi, Sun," Charlie replied. "Um, we'd like to borrow your husband for a few hours, if that's okay. We'd like to go back to that communications station that Locke blew up. Only because we've heard that there's supposed to be a storage shed, or something, that maybe didn't get blown up. So, we're going to investigate and see if there's anything of interest that we might be able to bring back."

Sun looked at her husband and translated for him. He shook his head and said something back to her. "He says he doesn't think that's a good idea. The Others have probably been there and cleaned out everything worth taking."

"Well, yes, they may have taken out all the pieces of extra communications stuff, if there were any. But, there may still be some other things there worth saving."

Sun translated again for Jin. She translated back his question. "He wants to know what else you think might be there still."

Charlie smiled and bounced up on his heels. "Lawn equipment," he said.

Sun gave him a blank look.

"You know," Charlie continued, "rakes, hoes, spades, a watering can, stuff like that. You could use that stuff for your little garden over there. Who knows? Maybe there's some seeds or something we could bring back for you."

Sun smiled a cheery smile. Garden tools! Yay! Oh, that made her happy. And maybe some new seeds she could plant. Oh, yes, she would totally make Jin go along with them.

Sun turned and spoke to Jin in a very delighted tone of voice. Jin frowned. This was not what he'd meant when he asked her to help him. But, she seemed adamant about it, so, to make her happy, he'd go along. He smiled, and nodded, and she gave him a quick hug, and waved at them as they walked away.

As Hurley followed after them, he thought to himself, "We're all gonna die."

lostlostlostlost

Sayid stuck the shovel in the ground and pulled up another mound of earth. He deposited it onto the growing pileof dirt to his left. Taking a moment to catch his breath, he straightened up and arched his back. This digging graves was hard work. Work that he was not accustomed to. Ever sinced Nikki and Paolo bit the dust, he'd been thinking that maybe it wouldn't hurt to have some spare coffin sized holes on hand for when the next time came. After all, digging graves took up a lot of their time that they could be using doing something else. Like living, for instance.

He watched the ocean tide come in, crashing against the shoreline. The air was cool, and it felt good against his skin. He closed his eyes and allowed his weary muscles to relax, while he thought about how nice it would be if he had something more interesting to do. He sighed, stuck the shovel back into the earth and began digging again.

He'd gotten another five shovelfuls onto the pile, when Charlie, Desmond, and Hurley came strolling along, and walked up to him.

"Dude, you're the Voice of Reason, talk him out of this," Hurley said, pointing to Charlie.

Sayid gave Hurley a confused look. "The Voice of Reason? Talk him out of what?"

Desmond grinned, and answered Sayid's questions. "First, that's what people call you behind your back, you know. Second, Hurley thinks we're trying to lure him to his death up to the communications station that Locke blew up."

Sayid's eyes narrowed a bit. "They call me that behind my back, do they?" he asked, totally skipping over the second part.

"Dude," Hurley said. "They wanna go ransack some supposed tool shed that Sawyer told Charlie about!"

"There was an outbuilding, if I remember correctly. Now, about this Voice thing…"

"Well," Charlie said, "they don't call you that in front of your back, do they? So, naturally they would be calling you that behind. Your back that is."

Sayid nodded his head. "So, people really think I'm the Voice of Reason around here? Does Jack know about this?"

"Dude, I don't wanna die!" Hurley practically shouted.

Sayid looked at him, and then at the graves he'd been digging. "Yes, well, I don't want you to die either," he said. "I don't have any wide enough to fit you. You'll have to wait and die later, okay? Now, about the outbuilding….."

"Yes," Charlie said quickly, so that Hurley couldn't butt in again. "We thought we'd take a hike up there, and see if there was anything left at all that we could grab and bring back down."

"As I recall," Sayid said, "there was a basement in the comm station. There were a lot of supplies down there. I'm not sure what might be in this outbuilding that would be of value to us."

"Well," Charlie replied," there might be some lawn equipment we could use for something. Or, maybe there's some extra comm equipment that was stored out there." He paused. "And, of course, there's the cow."

Sayid nodded his head. "You know, you might have a point there. There wasn't any kind of outdoor equipment at all in that basement. Perhaps it would be worth a second trip up there." He looked at Desmond. "You've got a rifle, right?"

Desmond nodded his head.

"Can I have a rifle, too?" Charlie asked.

Sayid gave him a 'look'. "No," he said.

Charlie crossed his arms, and an equally cross look settled onto his face. He stood there, looking all pouty, and mad, and Sayid asked himself if he really wanted to put up with a cross, pouty, Charlie for the rest of the afternoon. The answer to that was obviously 'no', so he scared up a handgun, and gave it to him.

Hurley watched them go, unable for the moment to move himself from where he was standing. But the further they walked away, the more apprehensive he began feeling. He couldn't let them go, and not go himself. And then there was the fact that he couldn't believe that Sayid had actually been agreeable to this.

_Voice of Reason, my ass._

And with that thought, he finally started after them.

* * *

Thank you to the one reader who placed my story on their alert list. Otherwise, I probably would have torn it down from no reviews.  
Anyway, if there's anyone else of a mind to continue reading this, I hope you likie.  
I you wish to review, click the button thingey.

TTFN, Nori  
_free the cuddlefish _


	3. A Totally Convenient Discovery

If you wish to view the disclaimer, please backtrack to Chapter One.

6/16/07 - Added story note: Yes, the cat in 'Enter 77' was a girl cat named 'Nadia'(LOSTpedia info). Mikhail said he named her after Nadia Comaneci. Fortunately for me, I had intended to have the cat be a girl. So, Sayid will give her a girl's name. My thanks to SassyLostie.

**A Totally Convenient Discovery**

The hike up to the comm station was passed in both silence, and conversation. Sometimes, the hikers thought they heard rustling noises, sometimes they thought they heard whispering. Sometimes, Charlie would put his hands to his mouth and make weird noises on purpose to spook Hurley. He finally stopped when Hurley smacked him upside the head.

Since he was no longer engaged in weird noise making, he had to find something else to pass the time with, so he decided to do a little daydreaming.

It was pretty much a given that his career as a singer was over. Even if someone came along and rescued them tomorrow, what was left of the band had probably split up and gone their separate ways. So he would need to find a new job. But it still had to be something in the entertainment industry.

Charlie pictured them finding a few camcorders, and some fresh unused tapes, and some charged batteries inside the shed. And, he thought that he could find a novel way to put them to use by taking them back to the camp and filming everyone. He could talk to them, and ask them about how they had come to be on the flight, and how they felt about being here, and about their daily routine, such as it was.

Yes, Charlie was beginning to fancy himself a documentary filmmaker.

He knew a thing or two about camcorders, after all. It's not like he had never handled one. He could compile a whole slew of tapes about life in their little beach camp, their run-ins with The Others, the strange animals that inhabited the island, and maybe, just maybe, he would capture some images of the smoke monster.

Someday, the rescuers would come. Heck, maybe they'd show up next week. Or maybe not for another month. Actually, a month would be better. That would give him time to get some really good interviews, and some good footage. Then, he'd take the tapes he'd made to some expert editors at say, National Geographic, or maybe the History Channel or something. They'd go through his tapes, and help to put them together in such a way as to make the most interesting, and fantastic, documentary feature film ever made.

The critics would go mad of course, raving over his film. In fact, everyone would love it so much, he'd get an Oscar for it.

He saw himself standing on the stage, holding his Oscar while a single happy tear rolled down his cheek. Then, he would proceed to thank everyone who made the film possible. He'd make sure to write down all his fellow survivors' names so he could rattle them off quickly before the orchestra started playing and cut him off.

Charlie was grinning from ear to ear, thinking about his new life as a filmmaker. Oo, wouldn't it be great? Someone would probably want to do a documentary about _his_ life, and all his hardships. All the daytime talk shows would want to have him on. He would have finally conquered America, and it would propel him upwards to heights unknown. It made him giddy just thinking about it.

Finally, after hours of walking, and no ice cream shop to stop at for refreshment, they came to the station.

Charlie's eyes swept over the splintered rubble of the comm station, and he said, "Well, when Locke decides to blow something up, he goes all out doesn't he?"

"Yes," Desmond said, pointing at something in front of them just a few yards away, "he even blew up the cow."

Charlie was filled with a moment of sadness. "Awww, the poor cow…" His voice trailed off for a bit, and then he said, "I thought we could give it to Jack."

Everyone was quiet for a few moments while they contemplated the thought of Jack having a cow. It wasn't too hard, seeing as how every time one of them would wander away from the camp unaccounted for, Jack would have a cow. Therefore, it stood to reason that the cow would have been right at home with Jack.

"Meow," said a voice, breaking into their thoughts.

Everyone began looking around for the source of the sound. They found it, sitting a few feet in front of them, swishing its tail back and forth.

"The cat! It's alive!" Sayid yelled.

He ran over to it, and scooped it up. "Oh, you poor thing! You don't know how bad I felt having to leave you behind!" He hugged it, and rocked it back and forth. "You poor wittle kitty. Was you scared, hmmm? Sayid make it all better, now. Yes, him protect wittle kitty!"

"Um dude," Hurley said, "you're like, scaring us."

Sayid turned around. "What? You never heard a grown man talk baby talk to a cat before?"

They all exchanged looks. "Well…" Charlie said. "Wait, I know! We'll give the _cat_ to Jack!"

"No! My cat!" Sayid exclaimed. "I'm taking it back to camp. It's gonna be _my_ cat, but you can play with it if you want. Anyone who hurts this cat, or tries to take it from me, will perish!" He stopped for a moment. "Was that too dramatic?"

"Well, yeah, kinda," Hurley replied.

"Oh, well, never mind about the 'perish' thing, then."

"Well, now that that's settled, let's go pop that bad boy open," Charlie yelled, and ran off through the rubble to the outbuilding which, amazingly, was still standing.

They all took off after Charlie, especially Sayid, who was yelling frantically at Charlie, while trying not to drop the cat who he was trying to come up with a name for. At the moment, he was considering 'Mr. Fuzzypants'. Unless it was a girl. Then, he'd name it '_Miss_ Fuzzypants', or maybe Mrs. – whatever. On the other hand, maybe he'd just call it Bob.

Anyway, he wanted to stop Charlie in case The Others might be somewhere nearby. This was beside the fact that if Charlie got himself blown apart, they'd have to use up one of the spare graves he'd dug. Then, he'd have to go and dig another one to make up for its loss.

Alas, Charlie was a fast sprinter, and he made it to the doors in record time. He unhooked the latch and began pulling at the handles. The doors flew open and the sunlight streamed in, shedding light on the contents.

Charlie walked into the shed as his companions finally caught up to him. They walked inside to stand next to him, and looked around.

There was absolutely no communications equipment of any kind. But, there _was_ some lawn and garden equipment. There were also a few tools on a workbench, and various other things.

Charlie frowned and valiantly held back a sniffle. He had visions of an official person from the Academy Awards coming to his house to take his Oscar away. _Damn…_

Hurley was the first to voice his opinion. "Well, this sucks."

Desmond clapped him on the back. "Yes, very eloquently put." He walked over to where there were a couple of wheelbarrows propped against the wall, and pulled one down. Jin went over to help him, and they began rummaging around looking for things to take back.

As Charlie began looking around for something else to occupy him, now that his dream had been so mercilessly quashed, Hurley walked over to the wall to look at a bag of something that had caught his eye. He grabbed at the corners and started dragging it into where the light fell into the shed.

Charlie espied a radio sitting on a shelf and walked over to investigate. It was an old style AM/FM portable radio with an antenna. It wasn't nearly as fancy as today's boom boxes, but it did have a cassette player. Charlie sighed. Bernard had some tapes that couldn't be played anymore 'cause the hatch was gone. He plugged the radio into an outlet, and turned it on.

Almost immediately, a burst of static came through the speaker.

Just as immediately, Sayid, Desmond, and Jin whirled around bringing their weapons to bear.

Well, actually, it was only Desmond who had his weapon pointed at Charlie.

Sayid was in the process of switching his rifle with Jin's gun. He took the gun, and put it between the cat's paws, and brought it up to point it at Charlie.

"I'm a bad kitty with a gun," he said. "Fear me!"

Charlie stared incredulously at Sayid. Was there even a response to that?

He flinched, and backed up against the shelf. "Um, I….found a radio?" He smiled gamely. "Please don't shoot me."

Desmond and Jin weren't even looking at Charlie anymore. They were looking rather annoyed at Sayid.

Sayid frowned. "Geez, a guy tries to lighten things up a little….."

Charlie turned back around, and yanked the plug from the socket. "Sorry," he said, "I thought maybe it would be nice to hear some music again."

Sayid nodded in agreement. "It _would_ be nice if we could find some means of getting electricity to the camp again.

"Well, I'll look around," Desmond said. "Maybe there's a thousand-foot extension cord or something. On the other hand, it would come in quite handy if there was – "

"Potatoes!" Hurley suddenly yelled.

Desmond started. "Potatoes? No, I was not going to say potatoes. I was going to say – "

"No," Hurley said, "not that! I found potatoes!"

Charlie stepped over to where Hurley was looking at the bag he'd found.

Desmond frowned. _I was going to say portable generator. But since I can't seem to say it to anyone else, I'll say it to myself._ So, he went on, and engaged himself in an internal conversation.

_"Now, Desmond, maybe you could look around, and find a portable generator."_

_"Oh really? Well, that would be nice…..."_

"Um," Sayid said, turning away from the strange, glazed over look in Desmond's eyes that, quite frankly, scared him a little, "that's very nice Hurley. We'll give them to Jack since we no longer have a cow to give him. Now, could you please help – "

Hurley shook his head in frustration. "They're not that kind of potato! They're…..potato batteries!"

Charlie nodded. "He's right. They're like mutant, hybrid potatoes."

"That can't be possible," Sayid said. "Everyone knows that's just an school experiment. Potatoes don't contain that much electricity."

"Look!" Charlie exclaimed, and began pulling the bag further into the middle of the shed.

Sayid, Desmond, and Jin walked over and looked at the writing on the bag. Sure enough, it said:

**Mutant, Hybrid Potatoes**

**To be used short term only, in the event of a power outage.**

**One potato equals approximately one hour of electricity.**

**Do not consume unless you wish to light up like a neon sign.**

"Whoa, dudes, superpowered potatoes! Is this cool, or what?" Hurley said.

"Alright, look," Sayid said, "we'll take the potatoes back with us, and Jack and I'll decide what we should do with them. In the meantime, let's – "

"Oo, oo, I know!" Hurley exclaimed, a sudden idea coming to him. "We could have one of those contests, you know, 'guess how many potatoes are in the bag'. And we could – " He abruptly stopped as he finally looked up, and saw how the other four were looking at him. He shuffled his feet back and forth a little. "Um, never mind….."

Charlie bounced up and down on the balls of his feet, and stifled a laugh. _I'm the one who's nuts? Hah! I don't think so!_

Sayid sighed, "Come on, let's load up some of this stuff, and get out of here."

He shook his head. Honestly, sometimes, being the Voice of Reason sucked…..

* * *

Yay, for reviews! Thanks muchly for reading, and putting some comments down!

To SassyLostie: Yes, it should be cuttlefish. And you know what? I googled cuttlefish, and man, are they ugly! Ewwww! I guess I should have done my homework on that before I decided to adopt it as my saying.

Anyway, please click the button thingey and leave a review if you wish.

TTFN, Nori  
_what's a garden without guava?_


	4. Come Again?

If you wish to view the disclaimer, please backtrack to Chapter One.

**Come Again?**

As soon as the returnees rounded the bend that put them in sight of the back of the beach camp, Hurley began running.

Or, at least what passed for running for him.

Actually, it was more of a slow jog.

Anyway, he threw himself down on the ground. "Thank you, Lord!" he yelled. And he kissed the dirt, which turned out to be a bad idea, because he'd landed on an ant nest.

"Aagh!" he yelled. "Get them off me!"

Jack came running up. "What's the matter?"

"I'm being eaten alive by ants!" Hurley yelled.

"Well," Jack said, "that oughta take at least two or three days. Unless, of course, you go down in the ocean, and wash them off. Then, you should be fine."

Hurley's lower lip started quivering. "You have a crappy bedside manner."

Jack shrugged. "What? I'm just sayin'….."

Hurley picked himself up, and headed down to the beach.

"So," Jack said. "Let's dump this stuff out, and see what you've got."

"Um, Jack," Sayid said. "We're tired, and hungry. We need to sit down and rest, and eat something."

"But, this stuff needs to be sorted through!" Jack exclaimed. "We need to separate it into categories, and stamp it, and write it all down, and type up a report in triplicate!"

"Fine, Jack," Sayid said, picking his cat up, "you start going through all this stuff. We're going to go eat something first."

Jack watched them leave. "Awwwww, man….."

lostlostlostlost

Sayid pulled off another piece of roasted boar and put it on his plate. Then, he cut a smaller piece from what he'd taken and put it on a separate plate. He cut it up into littler pieces and shoved the plate over to his cat. "Look," he said, scratching its ear, "I made you a plate of num-nums!"

The cat sniffed the roasted meat, apparently decided that it approved of its meal, and began eating.

Charlie laid his fork down, and looked at Desmond. "So, um, Des, are you still hungry?"

Desmond stared blankly at Charlie. "Uh, not so much anymore."

Charlie smiled. "I'm gonna go heave my guts out. Wanna come along?"

Desmond tried to finish swallowing the piece of meat he'd just chewed. It wasn't quite going down the way he wanted. "Uhhh, sure….."

They got up and left.

They weren't gone very long when Locke came walking up.

"So, Sayid, I see you brought the cat back."

"Yes, I did. I'm trying to decide on a name for it."

Abruptly, Locke picked the cat up, and lifted its tail.

Sayid gasped. "You pervert! What are you doing to my cat?"

"Calm down, Sayid," Locke said, "I'm just trying to see if it's a boy or a girl."

"And you have to look at its hiney?"

"Well, if you wanna know what sex it is, yeah!"

Sayid frowned. "I don't need to know if it's had sex, John!"

Locke's face took on a you've-got-to-be-kidding-me look. "That's not what I – Oh, forget it!" He plopped the cat back down. "It's a girl." he said, and then he walked off because he really didn't feel like talking to him anymore.

lostlostlostlost

Jack picked up a pruning saw from the pile he'd dumped on the ground. He wrote it down in his notebook, and put it in the 'P' pile because he'd decided to sort everything alphabetically. Then, he went on to the next item.

Sawyer came walking up to see what he was doing. "So, doc," he asked, "watcha doin'?"

Jack finished scribbling down his notation. "Well," he said, "I'm going through this stuff, and writing everything down so we know what we have. Then, we'll hand it all out to the people who can use it the best."

Sawyer nodded his head. "Uh-huh. Well, that sounds like a real effective system you've worked up there, doc. Can I see what you wrote down?"

"Sure!" Jack handed Sawyer the notebook.

Sawyer looked at it and wrinkled his nose up. "I can't read this! It looks like – like – chicken scratch!"

Jack put his hands on his hips. "Well, of course it looks like chicken scratch! I'm a doctor, remember?"

"But, how are you gonna know what you wrote?"

"Well, back at the hospital, I gave it to my secretary, and she had our chicken translate it back to her."

Sawyer looked at him, skeptically. "You have a talking chicken?"

Jack rolled his eyes. "Of course not! My secretary was trained in chicken-speak."

"Uh-huh. Well, I hate to tell you this doc but, your secretary ain't here, and there are no chickens on this island."

Jack rubbed his chin thoughtfully. "Well, yeah, I know. But, there is a medical hatch. Maybe they have an older version of the chicken scratch translation software. We didn't buy it 'cause it was cheaper to just feed the chicken."

"Jack, that doesn't make any sense! What if the chicken gets sick or dies? Then you have to pay to have a new one trained! And what if it speaks a different dialect? Then you have to go and get your secretary re-trained, too!" He suddenly stopped, his eyes widening in horror. "Wait! What am I saying?" He threw the notebook back at Jack and ran off screaming.

"Help! Help!" he yelled. "I'm starting to understand Jack! Somebody help me!"

lostlostlostlost

Desmond sighed and picked up his fishing pole. Oh, why hadn't he thought to pull the bug off and give it a pitch before he went with the others to the comm station? The bug was now all dried up and crispy looking. He seriously doubted that any fish, even a moronic one, would want to bite down on it now.

He threw the line into the water, and waited. It just wasn't fair, he thought. Why did Locke get to have all the fun of going boar hunting, and he just sat here baking in the sun trying to catch some dumb fish with ugly bugs?

As he sat there, mulling the question over in his mind, he had a sudden epiphany and realized that his life totally sucked.

The line began to tug in his hands and his mouth fell open. _You've got to be kidding me….._

He pulled on his pole and yanked it out of the water. Sure enough, there was a fish dangling from the end of it. Grumbling, he pulled it off and looked at it. Seized with an overwhelming need to make his feelings known, he dropped the pole, and began shaking his finger at the fish.

"Now you listen to me!" he began. "I don't ever want to see you come back to this shore again! Do you hear me? Just how desperate can you be that you feel you need to come in here and eat these horrid bugs? You ought to be ashamed of yourself! Now you go back into the ocean, and you tell every one of your little fishy friends to go find something else to eat!"

He glared at the fish, and shook it a little, just to make sure he'd gotten his point across. Satisfied that he'd cussed it out as effectively as he possibly could, he kneeled down to slip it back into the ocean. Just as he did, a seagull swooped down from the sky, plucked the fish from his hands, and turned around and whacked him on the head with it.

"That was entirely unnecessary!" he yelled at the retreating seagull.

Desmond rubbed his head, picked his pole up yet again, and made his way back to his tent. Tomorrow, he was totally going to find a way to wash his hands of this whole fishing business.

* * *

So, yeah…..that's chapter four. Sorry it's so short. Not sure how long the next one will be.

Not so much Sayid/cat-ness in this one. Will be a little more in the next.

Thanks so much to everyone who is reading, and also leaving reviews. I really appreciate them!

Click the little button thingey!

TTFN, Nori  
_what's a garden without guava?_


	5. Coming Soon To A Shoreline Near You

If you wish to view the disclaimer, please backtrack to Chapter One.

This chap.'s a little more 'sprinkling of plot', and a little less 'random nonsense'.

**7/4/07** Corrected a mistake I made with the 'anagram' conversation between Charlie & Bernard. It's actually called an 'acronym'.

**Coming Soon To A Shoreline Near You**

Charlie rolled over and sat up on his pitiful excuse for a bed. He was totally psyched after yesterday, and ready to go for today. He had much to do, and couldn't wait to get started. He sat up and smiled as he looked over at the radio he'd brought back with him from the shed.

It was the tape player, coupled with the thought he'd had the other evening, that had sparked the new, and much more exciting, idea that had begun forming in his mind during the walk back from the comm station. All he had to do was talk Bernard into going along with his little scheme, since it was Bernard's tapes he wanted to swipe – er, _borrow, _and things would be just hunky-dorey.

He walked along the warm sand in search of his quarry. Along the way, he kept an eye out for Jack because he needed to talk to him also, either before he went to Bernard or after, it didn't really matter.

He found Jack with Desmond. They seemed to be engaged in a rather animated discussion. As he got closer to the two of them he began to hear their conversation.

"But, Jack," Desmond was saying in a strained voice. "I can't fish anymore! Please let me go hunting with Locke! I'm a good shot! Really!"

"Desmond," Jack replied, in a firm, but gentle voice, "I really think you should tell me why it is that you're so spooked about fishing all of a sudden."

Desmond looked mortified for about a second and a half, and then he blurted out, "I had a flash, Jack. A vision! A vision of my own death! I'm gonna be attacked by a flock of seagulls! And…..those horrid brown bugs are riding shotgun on their backs!"

Jack's brow furrowed a little. "Uh-huh. And you expect me to believe this?"

"Well, uh, yeah, I was kind of hoping you would."

"Well, Desmond, I don't know. There's something about your story that just doesn't sit right with me."

Jack started ticking the points of Desmond's story off on his fingers. "Let's see, there's a flock of seagulls; then, there's the bugs; and they have little shotguns…..hmmmm." He snapped his fingers as something occurred to him. "Now, about these bugs, Desmond," he asked, "were they wearing seatbelts…..?"

Charlie abruptly swerved away from the two, deciding that _after_ would be much better.

He was almost at Rose and Bernard's tent, when someone began furiously tapping him on the shoulder from behind. He turned around to see a smiling Jin.

"Uh, hey Jin," he said, curious as to what the Korean man would want with him.

Jin's smile grew into a grin and he gave Charlie a 'two thumbs up' sign. "Sex!" he exclaimed.

Charlie's eyes widened a bit. _What the hell…..?_ "Are you hitting on me?" he asked in an incredulous, and slightly horrified, voice.

Jin suddenly looked worried. He turned, and pointed over his shoulder to where Sun was fooling with their fishing net. She just happened to look over to see her husband with Charlie, and a coy smile suddenly cropped up on her lips.

"Oh," he said, realization washing over him. "The garden tools! Right!"

Jin was looking at him again, and he smiled, guessing that Charlie knew now what he was trying to say. "Sex!" he exclaimed again.

Charlie smiled back at him and gave him a friendly punch in the shoulder. "Well, aren't _you _quite the man this morning?"

Jin gave him a friendly punch back and walked away to rejoin his wife.

He finally made it to Rose and Bernard's tent a little later, where he managed to get the man away from his wife so he could talk to him. Rose watched the two of them, talking in low voices, and wondered what was going on.

She was startled out of her snack preparations by sudden noises coming from the direction of where Bernard and Charlie were standing. She turned to look, and there was Charlie, throwing his hands in the air, and swiveling his hips, and yelling 'woo-hoo!' Her eyes morphed into saucers, and she walked forward to see if she could hear better what they were saying.

Bernard threw his hands in the air then, and swiveled his hips, and yelled 'woo-hoo!' himself. Charlie clapped Bernard on the shoulder. "See, you've still got it!"

"I do!" he exclaimed. "I still got it!" He turned and walked back to Rose, and grabbed her by the shoulders. "Rose! I still got it!" He kissed her lightly and turned, and practically ran off with Charlie.

Rose stared, totally baffled, at the retreating back of her husband. Her face turned down in a scowl. _What has that man gotten himself into?_

lostlostlostlost

Locke stood behind a tree and peered around to watch Charlie and Bernard. They were standing in one of the larger unoccupied areas at the back of the camp motioning and gesturing, and pointing here and there, and talking. It seemed as though they were trying to figure something out. Like where to put something. The question was – _what_?

He couldn't stand not knowing what they were doing anymore. He decided that before he interrupted them, he'd go see if someone else knew what they were doing. He figured that there were most likely five people who would know for sure what was going on – Jack, Kate, Rose, Claire, and Sayid.

He decided to try Sayid first.

"Do you know what they're doing?"

Sayid waved a palm frond at the orange and white animal sitting in front of him. "I don't care what they're doing. I have my cat."

Locke frowned. "Since when does having a cat equal not caring what the rest of the world's occupants are doing?"

Sayid picked the cat up. "See? This is Locke," he said. He turned the cat to face Locke. "He's a bad man. Stay away from him. He killed your friend Miss Cow. He'll tie you to a stake and use you for boar bait." He turned the cat back around to face him. "Do you understand?" he asked her. He gave her a quizzical look as he studied her. She said 'meow'. His eyes brightened up. "You do understand, don't you? I knew you would!" He hugged her to his chest. "I just wuv you!"

Locke began backing away slowly. Why did he think this encounter with Sayid would go better than the one from yesterday? "Uhhhhh, I'll just find someone else to ask," he said.

Sayid turned the cat back around to face Locke. "Say goodbye to Locke," he said. He waved her front paw. "Goodbye, Locke," he said in a high-pitched voice, pretending that it was the cat talking.

Locke turned and ran off to find Rose.

"Do you know what they're doing?"

She looked at him curiously. "Why yes, as a matter of fact I do."

He waited. "And….what they're doing is…..?"

Rose gasped. "John!" she exclaimed. "Are you asking me to break the promise I made to my husband and Charlie? That means I would be lying! Then I'd have to repent, and ask forgiveness so I wouldn't burn in hell! Shame on you, John!"

She walked around behind him and began to push him. "Now you go over there to that tree and kneel down and pray for guidance to change your ways!"

John abruptly twisted away from her and took off. "I'll do it, later!" he yelled over his shoulder.

By the time he ran across the beach camp to where Claire's tent was he was slightly out of breath. He grabbed onto one of the poles of her 'room' and stood there for a few seconds, trying to get his breath.

Claire's eyes got wider, and wider, the longer she looked at him. Suddenly, she jumped up and exclaimed. "You freaking dirty old man! How dare you come over here and breathe heavy at me!" Then, she picked up some of Aaron's diapers, and began beating him across the head with them.

Locke quickly ran off to find Jack.

"Jack, please tell me that you know what they're doing, and that you'll tell me what it is."

"Well, I know what they're doing," he began, "but I can't tell you."

"Why not?"

"Because, then I'd have to tie you to a tree and sing The Little Pickle Song to you over and over until you screamed for mercy."

A pained look crossed Locke's face. That's what him and Sayid had done to Sawyer that time! "You know what? I'm just gonna go and do what I should have done in the first place. I'm gonna go and ask Charlie and Bernard themselves and get them to tell me."

lostlostlost

Charlie and Bernard sat down on a log next to the area they'd designated as the one most suitable for the beach club. There were a few things yet they needed to do, but right now they were trying to hash out a good name for it.

"So," Charlie was saying, "I think we should call it 'Charlie's Place'.

"That's not fair Charlie," Bernard said. "We should call it 'Bernard & Charlie's Place'."

"Hey! It was my idea, you know."

"Yes I know, but you're borrowing _my_ tapes."

"Fine," Charlie said. "We'll call it 'Charlie & Bernard's Place."

"'B' comes before 'C'," Bernard replied.

Charlie frowned. "Why don't we include all the names? Me, you, Hurley, Sayid, Desmond, and Jin. We could do one of those acronym thingies, you know, with the letters of our names."

Bernard thought about this. "So, we'd have B,C – wait – in what order did you round everyone up?"

"Hmmmm, let's see….Hurley, Desmond, Jin, Sayid."

"So that would be…..B, C, H, D, J, S," Bernard finished.

The two sat in silence as they tried to come up with a way to make the letters make sense.

"I've got it!" Charlie exclaimed. "A Bald, Charming Hippo Dancing, Jumping & Singing!"

Bernard narrowed his eyes at Charlie. "I don't _even_ want to know how you came up with that! Besides, it's not even an acronym! And thanks a lot for using 'bald' for my letter!"

"Well, you're welcome! I'm the one that did all the work after all! I went and rounded everyone up, and went along with them, and helped bring everything back, and – "

"Okay, okay!" Bernard said, acquiescing. "We'll do C, B, H, D, J, S. Which would make….."

"A Charming, Bald Hippo, Dancing, Jump – "

"Will you knock it off with the hippo, and the jumping already!"

"Excuse me, gentlemen."

Charlie and Bernard jumped at the sound of Locke's voice interrupting their conversation.

"What do _you_ want, Locke?" Charlie asked.

"Well, I was just wondering what the two of you are doing."

"We're having a talk. Now go away."

Locke smiled. "Charlie, I know the two of you are up to something. I asked Rose and Jack. Now, they didn't tell me anything. I'd appreciate it if you'd tell me yourself."

"It's a surprise. You'll find out when everyone else does."

"That's not good enough Charlie."

"Look, I'll give you two reasons why I'm not telling you. One, I don't like you. Two, you smell funny. And besides that, if you keep prying and ruin the secret, I'll draw a smiley face on top of your head with my magic marker tonight while you're sleeping."

Locke glared at Charlie, and then stormed off.

"You know," Bernard said, "I think we could do something with the 'hippo' part."

* * *

Have a safe and happy Fireworks Day tomorrow! (for those of us in the U.S.)

Thank you, thank you to everyone who's reading, and also reviewing! I appreciate it!

Click the little button thingey, if you so wish!

TTFN, Nori  
_what's a garden without guava?_


	6. It Kinda Makes You Wonder

If you wish to view the disclaimer, please backtrack to Chapter One.

This chapter is for everyone who's been wondering when Kate would show up.

Some curse words in this chapter.

**It Kinda Makes You Wonder**

Kate picked up the backpack she always used when she needed to go on a hike. Carefully, she pushed aside the other items that were always in constant residence inside it. She tucked in three fresh water bottles, a few little bags of snacks, and zipped it back up. She hoisted the pack over a shoulder and walked off to search for Charlie.

She found him waiting for her at the back of the beach camp, leaning casually against Hurley's VW van. Hurley was with him, and so was Desmond.

"Hi, guys!" she yelled as she walked up to them.

"Hi, Kate!" they responded.

"So, is this the crew?" she asked.

"Yep," Charlie answered. He hooked his thumb at Bernard, who was still sitting on the log. "Bernard's gonna stay behind, and help Hurley and me to unload when we come back. I'm hoping we don't have to make too many trips."

Kate squared her shoulders and smiled. "Well then, let's get going! It's been a while since I've been up to the medical hatch, and I can't wait to get there! Did you know that there's an old trunk, and some lockers, that have costumes in them? We can play dress-up!"

Charlie abruptly stopped his walk around the other side of the van to get in. He exchanged glances with Hurley and said. "Um, Kate, you know we're going up there to fetch some tables and chairs, right? We aren't going up there to, um, play dress-up."

Kate sniffled and looked sad. "But, I wanted to play dress-up. I like to pretend I'm still a civilized lady leading a civilized life." She sniffled some more. "Can't one of you play with me?" She stuck her lower lip out and pouted.

Everyone looked at Charlie. _Oh, great… _Sighing, he walked back around the van, grabbed hold of Desmond, and shoved him over to Kate. "Here. Des will play dress-up with you."

"What? Me? Why me?" Desmond shouted.

"Well, because you're Scottish. You guys wear skirts."

Desmond gave Charlie a scathing look. "I do _not_ wear skirts! They're called kilts! You're English, you know that!"

Charlie snorted. "I know no such thing. Now get in the van."

Desmond walked over to stand in front of Charlie. "Why don't _you_ play dress-up with her?"

In spite of the fact the Desmond practically loomed over Charlie, Charlie was unmoved. "Because, I'm not a sodding wussy-boy like you are."

"Why, you – !" Desmond said angrily, grabbing Charlie by the shirt. "I'm not a – "

Kate grabbed Desmond and spun him around bringing whatever comment he was going to make to a sudden end. "You of all people should know how stressful it is to live on this island! You've been here three years! I go up there to remind myself that I still have a caring and nurturing side! Now, you're going to play with me, or I'm going to rip out your intestines and feed them to the smoke monster!"

Desmond swallowed. "Yes, well, um, sure, heh, that would be just fine. I'd love to, of course."

"Yay!" Kate exclaimed, clapping her hands together, all sweetness and light again. She hooked her arm into Desmond's and led him around the van to the side sliding door. "It'll be fun, trust me! I found some dollies, and some stuffed animals, and ….."

Fortunately for Desmond, Kate had to sit up front so she could give directions to Hurley.

Upon arrival at the hatch, everyone piled out of the van, and Kate and Charlie walked over and pulled open the door.

Charlie flipped the switch inside the hatch door, and light sprang forth, illuminating a long corridor. The light blinked as though it had a short in it, but it was bright enough that they could see to walk down the hall with no problem.

"Alright, then," Charlie said, "Let's see what's behind door number one." The others waited in the hall as he walked down to the first door on his right. They watched him open it slowly, and feel around for another light switch. A light came on in the room and Charlie stepped inside. He was only gone for a few short minutes.

"It's all clear in here," he said, when he came back out. "Hurley, you and I'll go room by room, and pull out all the chairs. That will give Kate and Desmond some time to play with their dolls." He smiled sweetly at them, and Desmond shot him a dirty look. "Then, the four of us will go back through and bring out whatever kind of nice looking tables we can find."

Kate grabbed Desmond's hands and practically dragged him down the corridor to the room where she had relocated the costumes. "Now, the first thing we're going to do is have a little tea party," she said. She sat him down on one side of the table, and pulled two dolls out of a box next to it. She sat them on her side of the table, and went about the task of pretending to pour Desmond some tea and sit the tea cup in front of him.

She held up one of the dolls. It had blonde, curly hair, and a pink ribbon. "This is Miss Wipsyfibble," she said, waggling the doll at Desmond. "She's your girlfriend!" She sat the doll down on the table next to him. Then, she picked up the other doll. It had straight, red hair, and a blue ribbon. "This is Mrs. Bumperfutts! She's going to ask you and Miss Wipsyfibble to a social dance tonight!" She tapped her finger on her chin. "Hmmmm. I need to give you a name. Lessee, I don't know any Scottish last names, so I'll give you an English sounding one." She thought for a moment. "I know! You can be Sir Twiddlysniggins! Now," she said, sitting Mrs. Bumperfutts in the middle of the table, "this is what's going to happen…"

Thankfully, Charlie and Hurley didn't take too long finding the chairs and taking them outside. By the time they got back to the room where Kate and Desmond were, Desmond was standing on top of a counter along the wall, and Kate was standing next to him giving him instructions.

"Okay, you need to swoop down and save the little duckie," she was saying.

Desmond gave her a quizzical look. "Shouldn't I have a cape on, or something? I mean, I'm pretending to be a superhero, right?"

"I don't have a plain piece of fabric," she answered. "I could tie a long sleeved shirt around your neck!"

"Ahem."

Kate and Desmond looked up to see Charlie in the doorway watching them. "Sorry to break up your little scenario, but it's time to find some tables and get to the packing and hauling part."

Kate frowned. "Awwww, but Desmond's saving a little trapped duckie. I'm the reporter who's going to interview him afterwards!"

"Now, now, Kate," Desmond said, a slightly desperate look in his eyes, "surely, you've gotten back in touch with…..um….._some_ of the other sides of your personality, yes?" He nodded at her encouragingly, and smiled.

She studied him back, and then also smiled. "Well, yeah, I guess I have."

Desmond threw his hands up in the air. "Yes!" He jumped off the counter, made a neat two point landing, and tore off out the door and down the hall.

Kate smiled slyly at Charlie. "He forgets that he's gonna stay here with me while you and Hurley make the trips back and forth."

lostlostlostlost

Charlie bent down and brushed the sand off the bottom of his jeans as best he could. He, Bernard, and Hurley were almost done arranging the furniture, so to speak. Desmond had run off for parts unknown almost as soon as the van came to a halt on their last trip back. Charlie cocked his head slightly. If he concentrated, he could swear he could still hear pained shrieks echoing back into the camp from somewhere far down the beach.

"Well, that's just about that, isn't it?" Charlie asked. "Nothing to do now but wait until tomorrow evening."

Bernard sighed. "You know what would be nice?" he asked. "It would be nice if we had some extra food on hand. I can't remember the last time I was able to get a second helping of something." He stared wistfully up at the sky peeping through the forest canopy and elbowed Charlie. "Maybe we should ask the tree guy to drop down another crate of food for us."

"Oooh, that's a good idea!" Charlie exclaimed. "I'll do it now so we don't forget!"

He walked out from amongst the tables and yelled up into the trees. "Excuse me! Mr. Nice Person Who Lives In the Treetops? Could you please drop us another crate of food?" He waited but heard no response. He looked at Bernard. Bernard shrugged. "Maybe he's taking a crate to The Others right now.

Charlie waited another five minutes and then yelled up again. "Excuse me! Mr. Nice Person? Are you here? I really need to ask you a favor!"

"Oy!" a male voice finally said. "I hear you alveady! Give me five minutes to get over dere!"

Charlie, Bernard, and Hurley waited patiently for yet another five minutes.

"Okay, now. Vhat is so damned important?"

"Um, could you drop us another crate of food please, sir?" Charlie asked.

"Sheesh, is dat all you people ever tink about down dere?"

"It's for a social get-together tomorrow night." Charlie replied. "We'd like to have some extra food on hand."

"Alvight, alvight!" came the reply back. "I'll get your stinking food. You know, dis reminds me of da incident vith my great aunt Matilda. She got so fat ve tought she vas eating vay too much food. Den, vone day, she accidentally got jabbed vith a safety pin! She totally deflated and blew away! Ve never saw her again! Ha! Turns out she vas just filled vith a lotta hot air! Oy, but dat voman could talk!"

Charlie stared up at the treetops, a look of total bafflement on his face. "Um, that was a fabulous story Mr. Nice Person, and I thank you for telling us, but, uh, I honestly don't see how that relates to our request."

"It doesn't, you stinking, little, damned smarty-mouth! Oy! Young people dese days! Now, heads up! Here's your crate of food!"

The three backed away to a far side of the designated club area as a series of loud cracking noises was heard emanating from above. The crate of food crashed down, splintering open and revealing boxes, and boxes, of all different kinds of foods as they spilled out onto the forest floor.

"Thank you, so much, Mr. Nice Person!" Charlie yelled. "We really appreciate it!"

"Ya, ya, sure you do! Now go da hell avay and don't bodder me for a month!"

Charlie smiled at Hurley and Bernard. "I thought that went rather well, yes?"

lostlostlostlost

Unawares that he had been spotted, Desmond crept slowly back into the beach camp. The sun was on its way down, and in the darkening light he was trying to sneak back in at a place where Kate wouldn't see him. He pried apart the stems of a plant that had some thick, broad leaves, and peered at the scene immediately in front of him. This looked like as good a place as any to make his way back in.

"Boo!"

"Aagh!"

Desmond screamed and threw himself down onto the ground, pulling at the plant he was looking through and trying to cover himself with it.

Sawyer cracked up laughing.

"What's got _you_ in such a state?" he asked.

Desmond flipped over and finally looked up at the person that had scared him. His eyes narrowed in anger. "What the hell'd you do that for?"

"Cause I thought it'd be funny. I was right."

Desmond frowned and sat up. "I'm just trying to get back into camp."

"Well, standing upright and walking in usually works real good."

Desmond sighed. "You don't understand."

Sawyer hunkered down next to Desmond. "Oh, yeah? Try me."

Desmond looked at Sawyer for a moment, trying to discern if he was being serious or not. He shrugged. What did it matter? Charlie, or Kate herself, had probably already spent the better part of the afternoon regaling everyone over his particular contribution to the trip to the med hatch. Most likely, Sawyer already knew.

"Kate made me play dress-up, and play dollies with her." He sniffled.

Sawyer's eyebrow shot up. "Kate? She made you do that?" He paused to think about this. "Ha! I'd a paid good money to see that!"

"Thanks a lot."

"Hey, you think you got problems? Yesterday, I had a conversation with Jack about chickens, and a secretary who understands them." He shuddered at the memory. "You wanna know the worst part? I actually got what he was talking about! Is that a horror story for you or what?"

"I would gladly engage in a conversation with Jack about chickens any day if it meant that I would never have to suffer going through what I did this afternoon."

Sawyer tapped his chin. "You know what? It seems to me that Jack and Kate have been responsible, in their own way, for some of the emotional trauma that some of us have been suffering since we landed here. Most of it we can blame on The Others. But, still…"

Desmond thought about this. "You know, you may have something there. It's a shame we don't have a therapy group we can go to when stuff like this happens."

Sawyer snapped his fingers. "That's it! We could form a therapy group and help people who have been traumatized by Jack and Kate."

Desmond gave him a dubious look. "We have no money."

Sawyer shrugged. "We can dream, can't we?"

Desmond was silent for a moment. "Well, we could call it 'People Who Have Been Traumatized by Jack and Kate."

Sawyer pursed his lips. "No, that's no good. It's gotta have an emotional hook of some kind. It's gotta scream 'our group is the one you need to join'. It's gotta make people want to come and throw their hard-earned money at us."

Desmond closed his eyes. _Hmmmmm…._ "How about 'Jack and Kate Anonymous'?"

"That's lamer than the first one you came up with. What about 'People Who Are Recovering from Having Interacted With Jack and Kate'?"

Now it was Desmond's turn. "That's even worse!"

They thought and they thought and finally Desmond half-shouted. "I know! We could call it 'People Who Have Had Traumatic Encounters with Jack and Kate and Just Barely Managed to Escape within an Inch of Their Sanity'!"

"That's it!" Sawyer yelled. "That's _totally_ what we could call it!"

Desmond suddenly looked puzzled. "Um, how would we get all that on a business card?"

"Hmmm, dunno," answered Sawyer. "I'll have to sleep on that one a bit. In the meantime, it's time to get some shut-eye." He stood up and straightened. "Of course, I could always go in the woods and find a tree frog to kill. That usually makes me feel better, and it's way cheaper than therapy."

Desmond thought about the time he had spent being a monk. "I don't think I could do that."

"Well, you could just kick it, or something." He smiled. "Anyway, nighty-night. Oh, and _pleasant __dreams_!" He sauntered off into the camp.

Desmond watched him leave, and then groaned and put his head down on his knees. He just _had_ to say that didn't he?

* * *

Geez, this is like…turning into a soap opera or something….sheesh.

I feel compelled to apologize for the fact that there was no Sayid/cat-ness in this one. Hopefully, you found it enjoyable anyway.

Please R & R, if you wish.

TTFN, Nori  
_what's a garden without guava?_


	7. Bunnies And Cats And Boars, Oh My!

If you wish to view the disclaimer, please backtrack to Chapter One.

lostrocks11 left a review which gave me an idea for a Jack/Sayid/cat moment. Also, there is a single curse word, and some mild off color language.

**Bunnies And Cats And Boars, Oh My!**

Jack stared at the bag of potato batteries. He re-read the printing on the bag just to make sure he understood it right. Then, he looked over at the radio Charlie had brought back.

_Hmmmm…_

Carefully, he cut open the bag of potatoes. He took one out and turned it over, looking at it. He reached over, grabbed the radio, and took the panel off the back. Then, he pulled out the cord, and stuck the plug into the potato.

He turned the volume down, and thumbed the switch. Spinning the knob, he began searching for a station. After spinning and spinning the knob with no results, it dawned on him that maybe he should turn the volume back up.

Having done so, he began searching for a station again. The first one he came to was playing the voice of some woman talking in a foreign language. Then a male voice came on and said 'iteration' and repeated a bunch of numbers.

He frowned, and spun the knob again. The second station he came to was also playing the same woman, talking in the same foreign language, with the same guy saying 'iteration', and repeating a bunch of numbers.

He spun and spun the dial. He switched from 'am' to 'fm' and back. He tried moving the antenna in different directions. It didn't matter what he did, the only thing he could pick up was the same woman, and the same man, saying the same stuff, over and over again.

Disgusted, he turned the radio off, pulled the potato from the plug, and sat it back down.

He crossed his arms, and glared at it. _Stupid radio….._

"Excuse me, Jack?" a voice suddenly asked.

Jack's jaw dropped in surprise, and he grabbed the radio up off the table. "Talk to me!" he yelled, shaking it.

"Um, Jack?" the voice said again. Then, he felt a tapping on his shoulder. He yelped and almost lost his grip on the radio. Turning around, he found himself looking at Sayid.

"Jack," Sayid said, "you're listening to Danielle's message."

"Oh…In my own defense, I'd like to say that I never actually heard Danielle's message."

Sayid gave Jack a patient smile. "Yes, I know, but I did describe it to you."

Jack frowned. He was going to say something, but then he noticed that Sayid had brought his cat with him. Seized with a sudden impulse, he jumped up from his chair, grabbed the cat from Sayid and squished her against his cheek.

"Kitty!" he exclaimed. "Awwww, such a nice kitty! Jackie wikes wittle kitties. Yes, he does!"

Sayid stared in shock at Jack and his cat. How dare he just up and take his cat like that? Honestly! The nerve!

The fingers of his right hand involuntarily curled themselves into a fist. He took his other hand and placed it on his right wrist and pushed his curled hand down onto the table. _Must…..control…..fist…..of…..death….._

Clearing his throat he spoke again. "Jack, I would like to register my cat. I've finally come up with a name for it."

Jack stopped nuzzling the cat, and looked up at Sayid. "Oh, really? Well, then….." He plopped the cat back down, slid off his chair, and reached under the table. Pulling up a briefcase, he opened it up, pulled out the plane manifest, and laid it in front of him.

"Now, lessee….." He scrolled his finger down the pages until he came to Sayid's name. "So, when we get off this island, you'll be traveling back with a cat. Oh, I almost forgot, I put a new rule into place a few days ago." He shuffled through some other papers in the briefcase.

"A new rule?" Sayid asked, puzzled.

"Yes. See here?" Jack asked, pointing to a paper that had some handwriting on it. "Page three, paragraph four, subsection 'a'. It says 'No pets shall be named after Russian athletes.'

Now Sayid was really confused. "Why would I name my cat after a Russian athlete? Why would I name her after _any_ athlete?"

"Well, you tell me. She's _your _cat. Why would you do that?"

Sayid shook his head. "I'm _not_. I'm naming her Twinkles."

Jack's face took on a look of amusement. "Twinkles, huh?" He propped his chin in his hand and glanced wistfully out into the ocean. "You know, I've had three cats so far in my life. I named them Bubbles, Blossom, and Buttercup. They were swell cats."

Sayid wasn't sure if he was supposed to say anything over that or not, so he just said. "Oh, well, that's very nice, Jack. Um, can I go now?"

Jack shook himself out of his reverie. "Huh? Oh, sure, sure, go ahead. We're all done here."

"Very well. See you later." He picked Twinkles up and walked off.

Jack watched them go and went back to tapping his pen on the table. He was really starting to get sick and tired of this string of seemingly endless nothing-much-is-happening days. Not that he necessarily wanted something bad to happen. He would settle for something that was just mildly interesting.

His thoughts were suddenly shattered by a yell emanating somewhere off to his left. He jumped up just as Desmond came running back into the camp. "I did it!" he yelled. "I did it! I caught a boar. I shot it!" He ran over to where Jack was standing. "You should have seen me! I shot it dead to rights! It's totally mine! I own it! I got the battle scars to prove it! We were sneaking around looking for the nest, and it surprised us! It ran me over! I got hoofprints on my arse! Look!" He reached his hands down into the waistband of his pants. Jack recoiled in horror. "Whoa!" he yelled, throwing his hands up in front of his face. "Time-out! I _so_ do not wanna see your battle scars! I'll take your word for it!"

But Desmond was not to be put off so easily. He left Jack and wandered off looking for the first person to cross his path that he could waylay. That person appeared, scant moments later, in the form of Claire.

"Claire," he yelled, running up to her, "look at my arse!"

Claire recoiled in as much horror as Jack had. _**"What?"**_ she screamed back at him. She pulled her arm back, made a fist, and socked him as hard as she possibly could.

Desmond fell to the ground, unconscious. Claire stared at him slack-jawed. "I don't believe it. I – I actually hit a guy. I – I was strong enough to hit a guy!" She paused. "Oooh, this is soooo empowering….."

Jack kneeled down to check on Desmond just as Locke finally came into the camp, dragging the boar with him. He dropped the boar, walked over to Jack, Claire, and Desmond and demanded to know what had happened. Jack explained that it was actually all a misunderstanding.

Locke sighed and put his hands on his hips. "Darn it," he said. "And I was looking forward to teaching him how to slice it open and rip out its internal organs."

Jack stood up and asked Locke to help him carry Desmond into the medical tent. As they walked, he cursed himself inwardly. That was the last time he sat around wishing for something interesting to happen.

lostlostlostlost

_**Meanwhile, on the other side of the island…**_

Ben pushed aside the tent flap and walked outside. His eyes swept over the campsite and landed on the area where he and his followers gathered every day to eat. All the grumpiness he'd been dealing with over the past few days from the castaways infiltrating their neighborhood, and throwing a monkey wrench into his plans, disappeared. He skipped merrily over to the eating area.

"Bunnies!" he exclaimed. He took in a deep breath. "There's nothing like the smell of fresh, dead bunnies in the morning! It just makes everything seem worthwhile."

He looked down at Alex who was doing a very good job of ignoring him. "Where are the rolls?" he asked.

She hooked her knife over her shoulder. He followed her line of sight. "You. The Man from Mishawaka. Bring me a roll."

The man frowned. "I'm the Man from Misha Mokwa." He pointed over to his left. "_He's_ the Man from Mishawaka. You're always getting us mixed up!"

Ben pulled out his handgun and shot the Man from Misha Mokwa dead. "There," he said cheerily, "now I won't get the two of you mixed up anymore!" He looked over to the other man – the one who was actually the Man from Mishawaka. "You. Bring me a roll."

The man paled and looked upset. "Um, I don't think we brought the rolls. I, um, believe we forgot them in our haste to get out of the compound."

Ben glared daggers at the man. "Who was responsible for making sure we brought all the things we needed?"

The man pointed at Richard.

Ben studied him for a moment. "Well, I can't exactly shoot Richard, now can I? He's a little too valuable. So, I'll just have to shoot someone else instead."

Richard stepped forward. "Ben, please! You can't just keep shooting our people."

"Oh, yeah? Well, someone's gotta pay for me not having a roll for my bunny burger!"

Richard thought quickly and said. "How about I go into the woods and ask the tree guy to drop us some fresh rolls?"

"Well….okay. Hop to it! Like a bunny!"

Richard ran off into the woods.

Alex looked up at Ben. "You're sick. You know that?"

Ben smiled at her. "Yeah? And your point is?"

About twenty minutes later, Richard returned with some bags of rolls. He gave Ben the first roll out of the bag. Then he went over to the fire pit and got a nice looking piece of bunny meat and brought it back for him. He stood by nervously as Ben put the finishing touches on his burger with various condiments. Sighing, Ben bit into the burger. He chewed it thoughtfully, and swallowed. "Aahh. All is forgiven!"

Richard relaxed._ Whew!_

The rest of breakfast went off without a hitch. Everyone broke up and went about doing whatever they needed to do to make their day seem more pleasant than it actually was. Ben spent the rest of the morning in his tent, doing whatever it was he did in there, which was something the rest of his followers tried not to think too much about.

The Man from Misha Mokwa was buried and afterwards, everyone took the time to tell Richard that if there was one thing he needed to make sure he remembered the next time they had to move from somewhere, it was to damn well not forget the rolls.

Around the time that everyone started to gather in the eating area for lunch, a strange occurrence occurred.

Ben was just coming back from washing up a bit when he noticed a little brown bunny sitting at the edge of camp chewing on a leaf. He gasped. A brown bunny! There were no brown bunnies on this island that he could remember. He only recalled seeing white ones. Certainly, this was a sign of some sort. He walked slowly over to the brown bunny. "Here, little bunny. Don't be afraid. I'm a nice guy. You can trust me."

The little brown bunny kept on chewing the leaf until Ben got within a few steps of it. Then, it suddenly bolted and hopped away. Ben ran after it. "Stop!" he cried. "Come back! Come back little brown bunny of fate! Don't leave!"

The rest of the camp's residents watched as Ben chased after the bunny. On and on he ran until he was just a little speck in the forest. Then, he disappeared from sight all together.

Richard sat down on a log next to Alex. "Ben's gone off his rocker."

She shot him an incredulous look. "No, really? Ya think?"

* * *

FYI – There is really a city named Mishawaka. It's in Indiana. I had already known of its existence beforehand. I went looking for another city with a 'mish' name that sounded similar, and lo and behold I found Misha Mokwa. That city is in Wisconsin.

Also, can anyone tell me if the hoofprint reference is correct? I know that boars don't have 'feet' or 'paws', so I'm thinking hooves should be right.

R & R, please!

TTFN, Nori  
_what's a garden without guava?_


	8. A Club By Any Other Name

If you wish to view the disclaimer, please backtrack to Chapter One.

Again, this chapter is a little more sprinkling of plot and a little less random nonsense.

Some free medical advice: If you _ever_ see _any_ doctor coming toward you with forks and a stapler, for Heaven's sake, run for your life!

**A Club By Any Other Name**

Charlie stared, incredulous, at the piece of paper before him. He could not believe what he was looking at. Bernard couldn't possibly be serious, could he?

He groaned inwardly, and closed his eyes. Internalizing his thoughts, he ran back over all the work they had done up until this point.

Yesterday, they had worked into the waning evening light to get all the food out of the crate and sorted, and put on the pantry shelves that had been made.

This morning, he had tuned his guitar to pitch perfection. Tree limbs had been collected and stripped clean of all the little side twigs, and were laid out ready to be used as torches. Some last minute tweaking had been done to the arrangement of the tables and chairs. He'd even swallowed his pride and gone to Locke, and offered to help with preparing the boar since Claire was the one that had rendered Des temporarily incapacitated. Locke had assured him that the boar would be done by this evening.

Rose had volunteered to go the extra mile for him, and had spoken to everyone else in the camp to see if she could scare up any more music tapes. She and Hurley had then gone back through the collection of suitcases, and carry-ons, one more time. After it was all set and done, they'd returned with four more undamaged tapes to add to Bernard's.

Everything that could be done to get ready for tonight had been done. There was only one thing yet that was still tripping them up.

Charlie sighed and opened his eyes. He looked at the piece of paper again. Nope, it hadn't changed. It still said the same thing it had said when he'd looked at it the first time. He lowered the paper and looked across the way at Bernard.

"The Happy Hippo Hangout?" He paused. "Are you mocking me?"

Now it was Bernard's turn to sigh. "You're the one who came up with 'hippo' for Hurley's initial."

"Yeah, and I'd like to reiterate that I'm still offended," Hurley said.

Charlie chose to ignore Hurley's comment for the moment. "We can't call it the 'Happy Hippo Hangout'. We'll be made a laughingstock! This is an adult club. We can't give it a kiddie sounding name."

Kate raised her hand. "Ooh, ooh!"

"Um, yes, Kate," Charlie said. "You have a question?"

"Yes," she replied, smiling. "Can I be a pole dancer?"

"A pole dancer? No! There will be no pole dancing! We don't even have any poles."

"But, you said it was an adult club."

"As in 'grown-up', not 'strip joint'!"

Kate's face fell. "Awwww….."

Bernard reached across and plucked the paper from Charlie's hands. "We need to give it a happy sounding name, Charlie. We need to make sure that everyone who comes here knows that they're gathering in a happy place."

"Then shouldn't we just call it 'A Happy Place'?" Hurley asked.

Charlie shook his head. "No, no!" he exclaimed. "A straightforward, happy sounding name is too pedestrian. We should give it a name that's….that's – "

"Stupid?" Kate interjected.

Charlie scowled at her. "No, not stupid – _funny_! We should give it a _funny_ name! If people laugh, they'll be happy, see? Two birds with one stone."

Everyone was silent as they considered what Charlie had said. Finally, Hurley spoke up.

"In the town where I lived, there was an all-you-can-eat, country style restaurant. It was called 'Granpappy's Slap-Happy Vittle Barn'. I always thought that was kinda funny."

Charlie turned to regard Hurley. "Where on God's green earth do you come from, man?"

"Hey, they had good chicken," Hurley replied. "Don't knock it 'til you've tried it."

Charlie put his elbows on his knees and propped his chin in his hands. This was ridiculous. There had to be a name somewhere that they could come up with to call the club. Maybe, he ought to go and talk to – .

"Sayid!"

Charlie perked up at the sound of the name. Really? He should go talk to Sayid?

"Sayid!" Kate exclaimed again, pointing off to her right.

Charlie turned in the direction that the rest of his little group was looking. Sayid was coming toward them, carrying something in his arms that his cat was perched on top of.

"Hello, Charlie," he said, when he got to where they were sitting. "I would like to offer my contribution to your social hall."

Charlie stood up to face Sayid. "You're giving me your cat?"

Sayid smiled. "No, Charlie. You may have what is under the cat." He held out the wooden thing and Charlie took it. Then Sayid picked Twinkles up off of it.

"A shelf?" Charlie asked, confusion obvious in his voice.

"It's to sit the radio on," Sayid said. "Jack's coming with it shortly. You pick out a tree, and I'll attach the shelf for you."

Charlie's mood lightened up. "A shelf! That's great, Sayid! Thanks!"

He motioned to Hurley to get up and come with him, and they walked off in search of a good tree to hang the shelf.

Sayid sat down, and put Twinkles in his lap.

"So, you come up with a name for that cat, yet?" Bernard asked.

"Yes, as a matter of fact. I named her Twinkles."

"That's 'cause you like Twinkies isn't it?" Kate asked. "I just love Twinkies, myself. In fact, when I was a little girl, I would have much rather been a Twinkie than an Oscar Mayer weiner."

"I can assure you I do _not_ like Twinkies," Sayid replied.

"So why'd you name her that?" Bernard pressed.

Sayid hesitated. He had personal reasons for naming her what he did, and he wasn't sure he was ready to tell anyone yet.

"C'mon, Sayid, you can tell us why," Kate said. She smiled encouragingly.

Jack came walking up just then with the radio. Sayid thought to himself that if he was going to explain the reason behind the name, maybe now was as good a time as any. Then he wouldn't have to re-explain it again and again.

He sighed. He might as well get this over with. "I named her Twinkles because she's a little shining star in my life that fills up the black hole in my heart with new light."

Everyone present immediately began to get misty-eyed. That was sooo sweet! What a nice reason to give his cat that kind of name.

Jack, however, was unperturbed. In fact he was feeling a bit _dis_turbed. He walked around to stand directly in front of Sayid. "You have a hole in your heart?" he asked him. "Good Lord man, why haven't you ever told me this?"

Sayid looked suddenly alarmed. "Jack, I – "

"I'm going to need to take you to the med hatch right away and take a look at this!" he exclaimed. "You're going to need surgery! I need to sew that up pronto!"

"But, Jack! – "

"I'll need a spatula, and some steak knives, and a couple of forks!" Jack yelled. "And somebody please start boiling some water!"

"Jack, please!" Sayid shouted. He was starting to feel a little panicky.

"Kate, go see if you can find me some bobby pins. And get the stapler!"

"_It was a metaphor!"_ Sayid shouted. "_I was speaking metaphorically! _I _don't _actually have a hole in my heart!"

Jack suddenly looked stricken. He stopped immediately and began to scratch the back of his neck. "Oh, yeah…..of course…..I knew that….heh…."

Hurley and Charlie stood off to the side unnoticed, taking in the exchange that was occurring between Jack and Sayid.

Hurley leaned down and spoke to Charlie in a low voice. "You know, sometimes...when this kinda stuff happens….like, yesterday when Kate made Des play dollies with her and….just now...I think to myself that this place is kinda…..looney…..or something, you know?

Charlie's eyes suddenly widened to the size of saucers. He spun around. "Say that again?" he asked.

Hurley gave him a quizzical look. "I said, sometimes, when this – "

"No, no! The end part! Skip to the end part!"

"Um, I said it's like….kinda….looney. Or something."

Charlie's eyes seemed to glaze over and take on a faraway look as he carefully turned over in his mind the words that Hurley had spoken.

"That's it!" he hissed, in a low voice. He grabbed Hurley and gave him a hug. "Hurley, you're a genius!"

"I am?"

"Yes! You've just given me the inspiration I needed to come up with a name for the club!"

"I have?"

"Yes! 'The Lunatic Fringe'! That's what we'll call it!"

He threw his hands triumphantly up in the air. "It's perfect!"

* * *

I'm trying to picture Sayid eating a Twinkie.

Yeah...I'm not gettin' that...

R & R, please!

TTFN, Nori  
_what's a garden without guava?_


	9. There's One In Every Crowd

If you wish to view the disclaimer, please backtrack to Chapter One.

Also, I have nothing to do with Chia pets…..thank the good Lord…..

**There's One In Every Crowd **

Like an ocean wave they began flowing. A sea of worn, weary survivors looking for some respite from the bad things that had been happening to them ever since they crashed upon this shore. The back of the beach camp was a spark of light in the waning evening hours. Drawn to it, they moved as one to the edges of the club, past the flickering rows of torches that cast a friendly ambient glow, and toward the tables and chairs that seemed to them to be a symbol of some of the civility they had lost ever since arriving here.

As they entered in, a few of the survivors chatted away as to what they thought the assemblage of chairs and tables might be.

"I bet it's a moose lodge!" exclaimed one.

"A bingo parlor!" exclaimed another.

A couple walked by, and the husband said, "I bet it's a drive-in movie theatre!"

His wife looked at him scornfully. "Lester, this is not a drive-in movie theatre. Do you see any cars?"

"Well," Lester said in reply, "if we make 'vroom-vroom' noises while we're sitting in our seats, we could pretend that's what it is."

"Lester, you're an idiot."

"You're just saying that!" Lester protested.

"No, honey," she replied, "I mean that truly, and sincerely."

"Aw, you're just as sweet as the day I married you," Lester said, and he continued following his wife dutifully into the club.

Eventually, some of the castaways approached Charlie with questions.

"Is this going to be a poetry reading club?" asked a woman with red hair, and glasses, whose name escaped him at the moment.

"Well, that's an interesting idea," Charlie replied. "Bernard and I could definitely talk about that."

"Oh, I hope so!" the woman exclaimed. "I love to write poetry! I write about sunny days, and happy children, and cute puppies bounding through fields of daisies – "

"Well, will you look at the time!" Charlie said. "I believe this nice lady behind you wants to say something to me, too. Off you go!" He shooed the poetry lady away.

"This is my Chia pet," an older woman named Doris said. "I brought him because Hurley brought Vincent, and Sayid brought his cat. His name is Beauregard." She leaned close to him and said in a secretive kind of whisper, "He hasn't talked since the plane crash. I think it traumatized him! I talk to him every day, but he never says anything." She looked sadly at her Chia pet and stroked it's foliage.

"Oh, well…..isn't that…..tragic," Charlie replied. "Um, yes… Say! Have you ever taken him to Jack to have a look-see? Maybe you should do that!"

"Oh," Doris said, her eyes lighting up, "why, I didn't think of that! I'll go do that right now!" She walked off, happy at the thought that maybe Jack would be able to help her with Beauregard.

Kate, who was standing just behind him, sniffled. "I had a Chia pet once." Her eyes started watering. "It died!" She put her face against Charlie's shoulder and valiantly fought back tears.

Charlie continued stoically fielding all the the strange comments and questions that were put to him by the castaways who felt they needed to say something.

Finally, everyone was seated, and it was his turn to talk. He walked up to stand in front of the gathered crowd.

"Welcome," he said. "Thanks for coming. This is just a little club I like to call 'The Lunatic Fringe'."

"That's a stupid name!"

"Shut up, Sawyer!"

"Now, let me explain if I may."

"And what if we don't care?"

"Knock it _off_, Sawyer! Now, as I was saying. The name is meant to be funny. Hopefully, it will lend a sense of humor to our situation here."

"Yeah, I'll bet some of us will laugh all the way to our graves."

"Sawyer, I'm warning you!"

Jack got up then, and muscled his way in front of Charlie. "Sawyer, I have syringes and I'm not afraid to use them!" He held the syringes up and brandished them so everyone could see.

"Spoilsport!" Sawyer yelled.

Charlie rubbed at his forehead. "Anyway, Bernard and I are the proprieters, if you will. This is a place for us to gather during any time of the day. You don't have to come here just in the evening."

"Can we use it for bar fights?"

"NO, Sawyer!"

"Okay, that's it, Sawyer," Jack said, standing up. "Yer goin' down!" He looked around for Sayid. "Hey, Sayid, do you remember the words to the Little Pickle Song?"

Sayid smiled. "Why yes, Jack, I do."

"Then let's do it!" Jack exclaimed.

"Yay!" Kate exclaimed, jumping out of her seat, and clapping. "I love the Little Pickle Song! I wanna sing it, too!"

Bernard elbowed Charlie. "That would explain a lot."

"Wait, no!" Sawyer yelled at the advancing men. "I'll be good! I promise! Give me another chance, please!" He got up and started backing away from the table he'd been sitting at. The thought of having to endure listening to that song was worse than the chicken conversation. It had taken him months to get over them singing that song to him.

Well, okay, he'd only been here on the island for three months. So actually, it had to only have been a few weeks. Funny, though, how sometimes, it felt like he'd been here for three years. Go figure that out…

Jack and Sayid stopped to confer. After a few minutes, they turned back to Sawyer. "Okay, Sawyer, we're gonna be generous and let you stay. But, I'm warning you!"

The two walked back to their respective tables and Charlie attempted to continue what he was saying.

"It's a place for us to kick back, relax, talk to one another, and try to forget our troubles. The only time it's the night club however, is in the evening, because that's when it's night!"

Charlie smiled and paused, waiting for the laughter to come at his joke. There were a few chuckles here and there, but the only dominant sound that he heard were crickets chirping in the background.

"You suck as a comedian!"

"**_Dammit_**, Sawyer!"

"Hey, c'mon, cut me some slack here! I'm just tryin' to liven things up by bein' Statler and Waldorf rolled into one! It ain't easy!"

Charlie turned to Bernard. "Who the heck are Statler and Waldorf?"

"Hecklers from the Muppet Show. They sat in the balcony and heckled Kermit and the acts that came on."

Charlie's eyes narrowed in thought. Then, they sprang open suddenly, as he thought of something he could do to shut Sawyer up.

"Hey, everybody, Sawyer likes the Muppet Show! Maybe we can get him up here to do an impression of Kermit the Frog! Orrrrrrr, maybe he'd like to volunteer to be the first one to sing on Talent Night. I'd just _love_ to hear his rendition of 'It's Not Easy Being Green'!"

Everyone turned around and began rooting Sawyer on to come up and do an impression of Kermit, or to sing.

Sawyer looked mortified. He jumped up from his chair. "I, um….I….gotta….uh…..go do something!" He ran off.

Charlie smirked. That'd learn Sawyer to mess with him!

"Okay, now," Charlie continued. "I see you've all collected something to bring to eat like we asked. Don't forget though, that the main dishes are the nice roasted boar meat, courtesy of Locke and Desmond, and some nice roasted fish, courtesy of Jin and Sun." So, why don't we start out by turning the radio on so you have some musical accompaniment while you dine? Then, I can play some live sets, and I take requests, too!"

Charlie walked off his 'stage' and over to the radio and turned it on. Then, he went back over to the front row of tables and began directing the patrons to get in line for the boar, or fish. After everyone was served he sat down with Claire, Hurley, Bernard, and Rose.

"So far, so good!" Charlie exclaimed. He began cutting into his own food and savored every bite. If things kept going like this, it was sure to be a bang-up evening!

Unfortunately, events were conspiring to prevent it from being so…

The meal went off without a hitch, and Charlie and Bernard decided that it looked like everyone would soon be finished eating. Charlie got up and grabbed his guitar. He took a moment to apologize for the fact that he didn't really know a whole lot of current American songs, but that he did know a good many of the old 'standards', both British, and American. He began strumming his guitar, and suddenly…..

"Bunny!" a voice exclaimed. "Get that bunny!"

Everyone stopped and looked up from what they were doing. Charlie whipped around at the sound of the voice to find himself staring at….Ben, Ryan, and Tom!

* * *

I am a bad authoress. I keep forgetting to say Thank you, thank you, thank you to everyone who is reading this story and posting reviews. I can't tell you how tickled I am that some of you find it so quotable. I think that's great!

Anyway, here's another chance for you to r&r if you so wish to do. Just click the little button thingey (but not 108 times…..that would just be silly)

TTFN, Nori  
_what's a garden without guava?_


	10. Beach Club Idol

If you wish to view the disclaimer, please backtrack to Chapter One.

The authoress is not responsible for any Skate fans who gag while reading the Jate 'romance' scene….

**Beach Club Idol**

Everyone froze.

For a long moment, the castaways and the Others just stared at each other.

The eyes of the Others swept over the mass of tables, chairs, and assembled patrons.

Finally Ben exclaimed – "This is it! This is why the bunny led me here! I know what my destiny is now!"

"What? What's your destiny?" Tom asked.

"Dinner theatre!" Ben yelled, flinging his hands up in the air.

Tom and Ryan looked stunned. "Um…dinner theatre? Are you sure the bunny doesn't want us to kill everyone?" Tom asked.

"No!" Charlie protested quickly. "No! The bunny does _not_ want you to kill everyone!"

"He's right," Ben agreed. "When I was young, I entertained thoughts, as most young men that age do, of running away to Las Vegas and becoming a showgirl! Um, um, I mean show_man_! Yes, showman. That's definitely what I meant to say. The bunny wants me to take over this restaurant! I shall be its new owner. I'll turn it into the best dinner theatre ever!"

"Hey, now wait just a cotton pickin' minute," Bernard said, standing up. "Just who do you think you are?"

"The leader of The Others," Ben replied.

Everyone gasped.

Jack jumped up. "It's okay, everyone. Just remain calm." He turned to Ben. "Ben, what do you think you're doing?"

Ben put his hands on his hips and looked smug. "Do you know how many zoning laws you've violated by starting up this place?"

"What? Zoning laws? – " Jack started to ask.

"Yes! Zoning laws!" Ben exclaimed, cutting him off. "Did you people even get a building permit?"

"But, we didn't build anything!" Charlie exclaimed.

"You've installed furniture." Ben said.

"We did not!" Charlie replied. "We just kinda slapped it down there."

"And then, there's the kitchen," Ben went on, ignoring him. "Do you have a license to operate a restaurant? I don't think so! And then there's the matter of not having sprinklers in case of a fire, and don't _even_ get me started on the fact that you never filed an environmental impact report! If you want this little place to stay in business, you'll turn it over to me to run, and do as I say."

"No one's turning anything over to you, Ben!" Jack exclaimed. "There _are_ no zoning laws! Now stop acting like this, you're being entirely too reasonable!"

"I am not! I'm being completely _un_reasonable. I – Wait….." he stopped, having finally figured out what Jack actually said. "You tricked me! You meanie!"

"Ha-ha! Yolks on you!" Jack said, pulling down the lower lid of his eye to show the white. "Naner-naner Boo-boo!"

"No! Nooooo!" Ben yelled, putting his hands on his face. "The mean kids in the school picked on me during recess! Waaahhhhh!"

As Tom and Ryan occupied themselves trying to console Ben, Bernard worked his way over to Jack.

"Jack, what are we going to do?" he asked.

Jack smiled. "Have no fear! I know exactly what to do in a situation like this." He turned around and motioned to Sayid. Sayid nodded and stood up. He walked forward as nonchalantly as possible to join Jack. He stopped at the table Doris was sitting at for just a moment.

"Doris," he said. "Would you mind looking after Twinkles for me?"

"Oh, of course not!" she said. "Why, having some company might be good for Beauregard. Maybe he'll cheer up if he had someone to talk to."

Sayid smiled and handed her his cat. He finished his trek up to where Jack was. They exchanged a few quick words, and Sayid nodded in agreement.

"Ben," Jack said, "I challenge you to a singing contest!"

"You what?"

"I challenge you to a singing contest! If you think you're so good that you wanna turn Charlie's nightclub – "

"And mine!" Bernard interjected.

" – and Bernard's," Jack continued, "into a dinner theatre, then you have to prove it first!" He struck a pose. "What say you?" he finished dramatically.

Ben's face scrunched up in anger. "I'll take your challenge! The three of us against three of you! Name your team!

"Me, Sayid, and Kate! Now here's what's going to happen - You three go over there, and the three of us will go over here. Pick a song that Charlie knows and he'll play accompaniment. Props, and dancing, will be allowed."

The two groups separated.

"I'll go get the props," Sayid said.

Jack nodded and turned to Kate.

"Kate, do you mind? I mean, you said you loved the Little Pickle Song, so I thought I'd include you as our third person."

"Oh, Jack, that's fine. I'm so happy you thought of me," she replied.

"I'm happy that you're happy, Kate."

Kate looked into Jack's eyes. There was something she should tell him.

She bit her lower lip. "Jack, there's something I need to tell you."

"Yes?" Jack asked, gazing into her eyes as well.

"Well, it's – " she suddenly stopped, hesitating.

Jack grabbed her hands and clasped them to his chest. "Go on, Kate," he urged.

"Well….I have a bunyon on my big toe," she said.

"Oh, Kate! You do?

"Yes! Yes, I do, Jack!"

"But why, Kate? Why didn't you tell me this sooner?"

Kate shifted her eyes downward. "I don't know, Jack. I ask myself that. I say to myself 'Why don't I tell Jack about my toe?'. And well, I just – I – "

"It's okay, Kate. You just need to make it through the song. And then I'll fix your toe. I'll fix it and make it better. All your other toes will be happy. Especially your little pinky toes."

"Oh, Jack!" Kate exclaimed, looking back up into his eyes again, "After it's all healed, I'll borrow Charlie's magic marker and draw a little smiley face on it. And I'll think of you Jack. I will."

Jack grinned. "That would be swell, Kate. It really would."

Charlie and Claire came walking up then, and told them that Ben had picked his group's song. Jack and Charlie went over the music for the Little Pickle Song. Sayid finally came back with the props and handed them to Claire. He told her which props went with which verses.

Finally, it was time for the two groups to begin the sing-off. They walked back to the front of the club and squared off.

"There's one more thing we need to settle, Jack," Ben said. "We need a judge."

"I'll judge," Locke said, walking over to the group.

"No, no," Ben replied. "An impartial, non-biased judge."

"I'm impartial," Locke replied.

"No, you're not. You can't judge."

"Don't tell me what I can't do!" Locke yelled.

"You can't lay an egg! Ha! Only chickens can lay eggs. So there!" Ben exclaimed.

"I can too! I can so lay an egg! I'll show you! I'll show all of you!"

Locke ran off to find a place where he could concentrate on the task of laying an egg.

"Now, about that judge," Ben said.

Jack thought about this. "Hmmmmm. I know! Let's ask the tree guy."

He turned to Charlie. "Would you do the honors?"

Charlie nodded. He walked over to the same spot he'd been in when he'd asked for the crate of food. "Oh, Mr. Nice Person Who Lives In The Treetops? Are you there? We need to ask you a favor that has nothing to do with food."

He waited patiently, but there was no response.

Again, he yelled, "Excuse me? Mr. Nice Person? We need you to judge a singing contest!"

Still no response.

"Oh, no!" Charlie exclaimed. "What if the black smoke monster ate the tree guy? We'll starve!"

"Oy," a familiar voice said, "you people scare easily! I have to remember dat if you're still here vhen Halloveen rolls avound. Anyvay, sure I'll judge your contest. It's not like I vas just going to spend the night alone veading a book and stuffing my face vith popcorn again, you know. But, you better hadn't suck! I hate it vhen singing groups suck!"

"Alright," Jack said. "We've got our judge, and we've got our songs. May the best group win!"

* * *

Okay, so we're almost at the end of this ficcie. There's a part of me that hates to say that, but then there's another part that's kind of glad it's over. 4815162342execute left a review last chapter (thanks execute!) about how it wasn't quite as funny as some of the others. Execute had a valid point, of course, and that got me to thinking.

I've learned something very valuable from writing this fic. And that is that trying to maintain a consistent level of humor throughout a multi-chapter fic like this is very, very hard (unless humor writing is something you excel at). I know some of these later chap's were more plot-y, than silly, but I actually did have some loose semblance of a plot when I went into this and, of course, after having fun (and getting a little carried away) with all the silliness of the first few chap's I found myself trying to weave the plot back into the story so there would be something that would bring me to the conclusion I had cooked up.

So, anyway, the next chap will pick up with more random silliness again, and then there will be an epilog that will wrap things up. I started this fic on a Chawyer note, and my intention was to end it that way, too.

I have the last two chapters done, so I will post the next chap tomorrow, and the last one on Sun. Then you'll finally have the whole story. I left the ending open to interpretation, on purpose.

Thanks so much to everyone who is reading, and/or leaving reveiws. Please review again, if you want! Or, if you haven't reviewed yet, why not go ahead and do it this time? It's free!

TTFN, Nori  
_what's a garden without guava?_


	11. Pickle Power

**8/26/07:** I am so sorry that my realignment of the title page has caused anyone who would have liked to review chap. 11 (or 10) to get locked out because a message popped up saying you'd _already_ reviewed it. I was obviously not thinking ahead to the fact that this could happen. You can review anonymously though if you like. Or, you can wait until chap. 12 (or 11). Thanks to SassyLostie for bringing this to my attention. Again, I apologize.

If you wish to view the disclaimer, please backtrack to Chapter One.

A couple of cuss words in this chapter.

Also, Right Said Fred owns 'I'm Too Sexy'. I, however, own the Little Pickle Song. I wrote it, it's 100 percent mine. And if you stop to think about that, it's actually kind of sad….

**Pickle Power**

Ben watched with apprehension as Charlie tossed a seashell to see who would go first. It landed face down with the inside up.

"Yay! We get to go first!" Ben exclaimed. "Our song is so good, you'll never be able to top it!"

"Oh, yeah? We'll see about that!" Jack shot back.

Ben, Ryan, and Tom stepped forward to stand just in front of Charlie. "Okay, Charlie, hit it!" Ben said.

"Um, before we start," Charlie said, "I'd just like to say that's it's not my fault I know this song. It's my stupid brother's fault! He made me sing it because – "

"Will you just start playing?"

Charlie sighed. Oh, this was going to be so embarrassing…..

Charlie started strumming the intro to the song. Ben, Tom, and Ryan began gyrating their hips. Then they started singing –

_I'm too sexy for my shirt_

_Too sexy for my shirt_

_So sexy it hurts_

Several of the women started shrieking – "My eyes! They burn!"

Some of the men began gagging and retching. A few of them revisited their dinner again, and not in a good way. Some of the patrons actually jumped up and ran off screaming, holding their hands over their ears. The rest of them just sat like stone statues, looking forward at nothing because they were in too much shock to react!

Oh, when would the horror of this song end? Who was the idiot that actually thought this would be a good song to put out over the airwaves?

Seriously, I ask you.

Anyway, after what seemed like an eternity; and it probably was, in the geological span of time; the three men stopped singing. Ben looked so smug. He waited for a reaction. Apparently, he didn't process the one that had been going on during the actual course of the song.

Finally, Charlie worked up the courage to speak.

"Um, Mr. Nice Tree Person? Um, what did you think of, uh, that, uh, song? And I use the term loosely."

All was silent for a while. And then –

"Oy! I vent into cardiac arrest! I had to defibrillate myself! My whole life passed before my eyes! And let me tell you, it vas more disturbing to see it the second time around! Oy! As soon as I'm done judging dis ting, I'm leaving on a two month vacation to Cancun!"

Charlie laughed nervously. "Yes, well, our esteemed judge is not, um, quite as impressed as you'd hoped, yeah?" he said, talking to Ben. Ben glared at him. "Heh, heh. Jack, help!"

Jack remained motionless where he stood. So did Sayid and Kate. Charlie ran over to them to see what was wrong. He pulled their fingers out of their ears, and told them it was okay to open their eyes again.

Jack flung his arms around Charlie's neck and grabbed onto him for dear life. "Charlie! The voices! Make them stop! They want to hurt me!"

"No, no!" Charlie yelled. "Pull yourself together, man! It's over! The song's over! You've got to sing the Little Pickle Song! It's our only hope!"

Jack managed to pull himself together. He, Kate, and Sayid walked up front. They turned to face Ben and his two lackeys.

"Jack, you have to win this!" someone yelled.

"Yeah, if you don't, we'll make Sawyer the leader," someone else yelled.

Jack's eyes popped open. Sawyer, the leader? Perish the thought! He would win this thing fair and square even if he had to cheat!

He looked over at his two partners. "Remember," Jack whispered, "we have to sing it _at them_." They nodded. "Alright then, let's do it!"

Charlie began to strum the intro to the song. Claire, who was standing ready with the props, threw them their straw hats. The three began singing the first verse to a country tune –

_Oh, I had a little pickle_

_It was green, as green can be_

_I loved my little pickle_

_And I know that it loved me!_

They threw their hats back to Claire. She tossed them some black leather beret style caps.

"What kind of idiocy is this?" Ben asked. "This isn't even a real song!"

"Uptempo rock!" Claire said encouragingly.

They began singing the second verse –

_One day I cut and sliced it_

_And put it on my burger_

_I didn't stop to think that_

_I was committing murder!_

They threw the beret caps back to Claire. She tossed them some green vests. "Think Riverdance!" she said.

"Make it stop! Make it stop!" Tom shouted.

They segued into an Irish dance –

_I ate my little pickle_

_And it went down real well_

_But then I realized what I'd done_

_And I felt just like hell!_

"Pain….in…..head….ow…." Ryan said, as he slowly sunk to the ground.

"Big broadway finish!" Claire exclaimed, as they tossed off the green vests and put on the top hats she gave them. They started doing a Rockette style line kick –

_So I mourn my little pickle_

_I shall never eat another_

_But then upon the other hand_

_May-be I'll eat its brother!_

They kneeled down, and put their top hats over their chests –

_So it won't get lonelyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyy _

Again, there was a long moment of silence. Then, everyone stood up and began cheering.

"No wonder the military uses that song to torture people!" someone yelled above the din.

"Yeah, look as those sorry idiots!" someone else said in agreement.

For yes, indeed, Jack, Kate, and Sayid were smiling triumphantly down at Ben, and his two goons who were lying on the ground, writhing, and twitching as if they'd suffered a seizure of some kind.

"Yay!" Claire yelled, jumping up and down. "I wanna beat them up! Please, can I beat them up?"

"As tempting as that sounds, Claire," Jack said, "I think we should just tie them up for now, and send them back tomorrow morning as a warning of what we're capable of doing to them if they ever mess with us again!"

Charlie made a point of clearing his throat. "Um, Mr. Nice Tree Person – "

"Ya, ya, you vin, alveady! Sheesh, vhat a stupid song. Dat's even dumber den the first vone. I'd hate to be on da receiving end of dat. But, hey, at least you sung it in tune…..I tink…..and, nice music svitch on the verses! So, oy! I'm going to bed, alveady!"

"Yay! We won! Yay!" was the general cheer that everyone yelled. The beach club was saved!

Desmond went to find Locke because he felt kinda bad for him that he was missing out on the celebration.

"I can't lay an egg!" Locke wailed, when Desmond finally found him. "Why? Why can't I lay an egg? We're all descended from dinosaurs! And they're related to birds! I should be able to lay an egg!"

Desmond looked slightly put-off at this outburst. "Um, I thought we were descended from apes or dolphins, or something. Anyway, can't only female chickens lay eggs? I mean, you're a _guy_."

Locke jumped up suddenly. "That's it! That's why I can't lay an egg! As soon as we get off this island, I'm having a sex change operation! Then I can lay an egg!"

He put his arms around Desmond. "Des, you're brilliant! I love you!"

"_You what?_" Desmond shouted, horrified. "Aagh! I'm never going hunting with you again! Help! Help! Somebody help me!"

The three Others were dragged to the front of the beach camp and securely tied to a tree. It was getting late now, and the sun was almost gone, so the castaways cleaned up the club, and broke up, and went back to their tents for, hopefully, an uneventful night's sleep.

"Well, Charlie, this was some grand opening, wasn't it?" Jack asked.

Charlie smiled, and opened his mouth to say something, but was cut off by Desmond who came running across the sand. He looked to be a tad bit hysterical.

"Aagh! Run away! Run away!" he cried.

Locke came along, then, running after him. "Come back! I don't want you to be its father, just its uncle!" he yelled.

Jack and Charlie exchanged glances. "Well…..that was…...disturbing….." Charlie said.

"Yeah," Jack replied. "Um, maybe I should go and see what that's all about. We can talk more about the club in the morning, okay?"

"Yeah. G'night Jack."

"G'night Charlie."

Charlie turned around and regarded the tide coming in from the ocean. He threw his hands up in the air and shouted, "Whooooo! My beach club totally rocks!"

"_**Our**_ beach club!" a voice retorted.

Charlie turned around. "Will you give it a bloody damn rest already?" he yelled back.

* * *

Just for the record, I like Desmond. I do! I don't know why I torment the pour soul so much….

I should have clarified way back in chappie 5 that the Little Pickle Song is the song that Jack and Sayid sang over, and over, and over to Sawyer to torture him because they thought he had Shannon's inhaler. Yes, much worse than having bamboo reeds stuck under your nails…..

Anyway, one more chappie to go!

Thanks so much for the reviews!

TTFN, Nori  
_what's a garden without guava?_


	12. A Log Named Epi

If you wish to view the disclaimer, please backtrack to Chapter One.

**A Log Named Epi**

"So, Chucky, Jack's gonna untie the Others and let 'em go, ya wanna come along?"

Charlie looked up to see Sawyer standing next to him. Again. He was bouncing a mango back and forth in his hands.

Charlie sighed and shrugged. "Sure," he said. He got up and followed along.

"Seems like your little club is all the buzz this mornin'," Sawyer said. "Well, that and the fact that for some reason, Jack told Locke he can't get within fifty feet of Desmond anymore. Anyway, I'm considerin' takin' you up on your offer to sing."

Charlie stopped dead in his tracks. "You're….not…..serious….."

Sawyer put his hand over his heart. "Why Chucky, I believe you've hurt my feelings."

When they got to the tree where the Others were tied, they found Sayid, Hurley, and Kate, too.

Sayid took out his knife and cut the Others loose. They stood up and looked mutely at their captors.

"So," Jack began, "You got a little taste last night of what we're capable of." He started poking Ben in the chest. "Don't you _even_ think of coming here and wreaking havoc again!"

Ben frowned. "You people are sick!" he exclaimed. "You're worse than me!" He paused. "And that's saying something! Anyway, I'm outta here." He motioned to Tom, and Ryan. "C'mon. Maybe when we get to the temple, we'll find some more brown bunnies. And then I can find out what my destiny really is!"

Jack and the rest watched them walk off into the distance.

"Well," Jack said, "I have a nine o'clock appointment with a toe."

"I need to go talk to Doris again," Sayid said. "I think she's still upset that Twinkles kept nibbling on Beauregard's foliage last night."

"I have to take my turn watching Locke," Hurley said. "He's still kinda mad. He keeps threatening to make potato salad out of the potatoes we brought back."

Everyone left, leaving Charlie alone with Sawyer.

"Well, I guess it's just you and me sunshine," Sawyer said. "So, whaddaya think about that story about the temple that Ben was talkin' about?"

Charlie gave Sawyer a suspicious look. "What do you mean?"

"Well, don't you think it's kinda interestin'? I mean, wouldn't you like to know what this temple is, and what the heck is supposed to be so important about it?"

Charlie's suspicious look deepened. "Interesting, eh? If I recall correctly, 'interesting' is what started this whole chain of events in the first place."

"And aren't you glad you listened to me? I mean, your beach club is a total success. Except for the fact that Bernard's pissed at ya 'cause ya keep forgettin' to include him in the ownership statement. Where's your sense of adventure?"

Charlie started backing away from Sawyer, waving his hands in front of him. "My sense of adventure has been put out to pasture with the poor dead cow. I'm happy with my beach club, I don't need any more adventure."

Sawyer snorted. "C'mere," he said, grabbing Charlie's arm.

"What? What are you doing?"

"Just follow me!"

"Sawyer, I swear – !"

"I just wanna show ya something!" Sawyer exclaimed, cutting him off. "If you don't like it, you can come back to camp."

Against Charlie's better judgement, he followed along after Sawyer. "Why me?" he asked. "Why do you want _me_? Can't you pick somebody else?"

"Cause I like tormentin' ya. Will ya shut up?"

For what seemed like ages, and ages, they walked down the beach. They walked past the part of the shore where the plane had initially crashed, and further. Finally, Sawyer came to a stop where the shoreline caved in, creating a slight cove.

Sawyer cupped his hands around his mouth. "Flossie! Flossie!" he yelled. Then he put his fingers to his lips and whistled.

Charlie looked at him like he was nuts. What the heck was he doing?

"Oh, Flossie!" Sawyer yelled again.

Suddenly, there was a great crashing sound as an enormous amount of water was displaced off the shoreline. A huge sea serpent rose up out of the ocean, shook the excess water off its body and sat there, staring down at Charlie, and Sawyer.

Charlie promptly fainted dead away.

Sawyer stared at Charlie's unconscious form, stunned. "Well, I wasn't expecting him to react like _that_."

Flossie nodded her head in agreement. "Yeah, you think you know a guy… Maybe he'll come around after a bit."

Sawyer shrugged. "I guess we'll wait, then." He looked up at Flossie and raised his hand. "Here," he said. "Wanna mango?"

finis

* * *

Yay, for surprise endings!

Thanks so much to everyone who took the time to read, and especially to those of you who took a little extra time to review! I appreciate it so, so much. See ya in my next LOST ficcie!

TTFN, Nori  
_what's a garden without guava?_


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